


A Port in a Storm

by NoRs



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:01:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 52,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8757226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoRs/pseuds/NoRs
Summary: Arames Lavellen wasn't supposed to leave his clan. That's not the job of the First. But he took his sister's place when she was sent to Ferelden to keep the remains of his family together. Weeks later he awoke in shackles with a painful mark on his hand. Then a handsome Tevinter mage offers his services to the Inquisition. Arames knows the Imperium should not be trusted, but how can he deny such a handsome ally? Throw in his twin sister's flirtations with both Solas and Cullen, and it's no wonder the poor boy struggles with migraines. Is fate something you can run from or something you run towards?Mostly fluff and angst, some romance. All safe for work minus some cursing.





	1. Chapter 1

Arames stared at the canvas ceiling to his tent, trying to make sense of his life. Or the past several weeks, at least. Leaving his family and clan. Traveling across the Waking Sea. Hiding in a seemingly endless rotation of stolen mercenary gear or servant's garb. He could have passed for a Circle mage if it had not been for the vallaslin on his face, so faint one could barely see it. Though few Circle mages, if any, would have been with a clan long enough to obtain their vallaslin and then be sent to a Circle. 

But anything was possible.

The world had changed. 

A Grey Warden abomination had blown up the Kirkwall Chantry. The Circles had been dissolved and Templars had abandoned the Chantry. And he was simultaneously a prisoner and the savior of Thedas.

A part of him was glad he had undergone only the first markings for his vallaslin. It would be easier to blend in. Creators, he had already been mistaken for a servant several times at Haven. One unsuspecting fellow made the mistake of calling him a knife ear within earshot of Cullen. The Commander could be quite formidable when angered. Arames found him distracting.

The travel and tents were nothing new. Though he did miss the familiar rumble of the Aravalls and the gentle bleats of the grazing Halla. But that was were the familiarity stopped. He knew nothing of the world of men nor their Chantry. Before the Conclave, his contact with humans had been limited. He had never met a dwarf or Qunari before encountering Varric and Iron Bull. They were at least open to Arames' endless questions. He had been less successful talking with Solas or Sera. The former viewed the Dalish as children making up stories, while the latter steered clear of anything “too elfy.” Whatever that meant. 

Sometimes he could pretend that he was still with his clan. That his hand did not glow or ache with a newfound magic he could barely contain. He could pretend his sister’s magic had not manifested, leaving their clan with four mages. But it was harder with his current roommate.

Bull snored loudly next to him and muttered in an unfamiliar language. Qunlat, probably. The large Qunari's presence reminded Arames that it did not matter. He was here now. He would have left his clan no matter what. Better the Herald of Andraste than a mercenary or worse. He wondered if he would have resorted to selling his body, as so many Dalish had done before. Based on the offers from the more unsavory merchants their clan ran across, he'd fetch a good price. Didn't matter now. Whether or not he believed in a Maker, he was tied to this organization for the rest of his days. 

And now time magic and a Magister in Redcliffe. Creators, what was next? 

A Tevinter ally, for one. 

Arames played they day over and over again, trying to remember what he noticed first. Everything, it seemed. From the man's impressive display of magic, to his crooked smile, to the mischievous glint in his eyes, Dorian was occupying more than a fair amount of space in Arames' mind. 

Arames rubbed his eyes. He heard a soft rumble next to him. He glanced over, Bull was awake and grinning over at him.  
“That ‘Vint on your mind?”  


“How did you—?”  
  
Bull chuckled.  
  
“He seems your type.”  
  
“Is it that obvious?” Arames sighed.  
  
“No, Boss, it isn't. Ben-Hassrath, remember? But enough of the serving girls have been falling over you the last few weeks and the only more oblivious person in Haven might be Cullen. And he's got his own reasons.”  
  
“Fair enough. It doesn't bother you, does it?”  
  
“Me? Nah. None of my business. Frankly, Boss, it's no one's business. Anyone gives you a hard time let me know and I'll set ‘em straight. Sort to speak.”  
  
Arames let a few moments of silence before speaking up again.  
  
“What are your thoughts on Dorian?”  
  
Bull grunted. “He is pretty. But so are most dangerous things.”  
  
“That's what Blackwall said about Vivienne. How the poisonous snakes are always more colorful.”  
  
“There’s truth in that. I wouldn't cross Viv.”  
  
Arames sat up and looked Bull in the eyes, or eye, as it were.  
  
“I do not always make the best decisions…” He stammered.  
  
“Aww, sure you do. Look you're just a kid, Boss. You're—how old again?”  
  
“Twenty, barely.”  
  
“Yeah. When I was your age they were sending me out to Seheron. It's hard to have this kind of power or authority when you don't feel like you earned it. But you've got good instincts. The important thing is to listen to those around you. Don't just decide you know best. A good leader takes advice and suggestions and makes adjustments. Just keep doing that.”  
  
“Thanks, Bull.”  
  
“No problem, Boss.” The Qunari yawned and stretched. He took up most of the tent. Arames found it comforting.  
  
A few minutes passed when Bull startled Arames.  
  
“Don't worry, Boss. You'll see him again.”  
  
Arames bit his lip.  
  
"Creators protect me, I hope so."

 

Bull was right. Dorian burst through the doors in the back of the Chantry with more flair and swagger than Arames could have imagined. His confidence was awe inspiring. And seductive. 

Cullen wanted none of it. It was not strategic to risk the one means of closing rifts in a futile attempt to get mages to close the Breach. Arames felt reckless. His life had been forfeit since he awoke with the mark on his left hand. Wasn't it only a matter of time? And while he had grown used to the quiet ache in his hand, the jaw pain was irritating. 

But Dorian had promised a means to get Leliana's people inside. Which meant a chance at actually getting the mages to join the Inquisition. Arames recalled his time in Redcliffe only a few days prior. Many of the free mages were elderly, infirm, or children. One small girl reminded him of his sister. 

And then the tranquil. 

Sera had picked the lock on a whim, hoping to find something worth selling when she stumbled upon a room filled with skulls, gemstones jammed into the eye sockets. Ocularum, Solas had called them. Made from the skulls of tranquil and mounted on to wooden stakes all over Thedas.  
Arames had run out of the room to vomit. Sera soon joined him. Bull rubbed his back.  
  
“Watch the boots, Boss.”  
  
Arames nodded and heaved.  
  
“I thought they were with the rebel mages,” Cassandra muttered as she left the cabin. She shook her head and looked over at Bull. “I should have looked harder.”  
  
Arames wiped his mouth and spat on the ground. He took a swig from Varric’s water skin to rinse out his mouth.  
  
“We cannot let Alexius keep the mages.”  
  
Cassandra nodded.  
  
He repeated it in the War Room. There were too many lives in the balance. Cassandra and Leliana agreed. Cullen acquiesced. 

 

So Arames had given the orders and now Dorian was sitting across from him at the Seagull as they went over their plans one last time.  
  
“I will accompany the assassins through the hidden entrance and disable any of Alexius’ wards or other security measures.”  
  
Arames nodded.  
  
“While Cassandra, Bull and I go through the main entrance and provide enough of a distraction to allow you safe passage. Meanwhile, Varric and Sera,” Arames pointed at the dwarf and young elven archer, “will wait at the Inn. If we don't come out after…how long was it?”  
  
“Two hours,” Sera said.  
  
“We agreed on three,” Varric corrected her.  
  
“Should be two,” she grumbled. “Creepy mages…”  
  
“After three hours, if there is no news, they send word however they can to Haven. By any means necessary.”  
  
They nodded in affirmation.  
  
“I do not like putting you at risk,” Cassandra fretted.  
  
“None of us do,” Bull countered, “but it's a necessary risk. Provided you do your job.” Bull leveled his gaze on Dorian. For just a moment Arames saw uncertainty in the handsome Tevinter man’s face. But then it was gone.  
  
“Of course I can.”  
  
His eyes traveled and lingered on Arames, as if seeing him for the first time. Arames smiled. Dorian smiled back, his eyes studying the Herald of Andraste. Arames was used to people staring. They had done so his whole life. His eyes were often the first feature people would comment on. Icy green, the color of elfroot in a frost, with flecks of blue. They seemed to simply reflect light wherever he was. Like a cat. 

If it was not his eyes, then it would be his hair. 

Arames was grateful he had cut his hair when he came to Ferelden. He had started growing it when he had been named Keeper Deshana’s apprentice. He got less attention with his hair cropped close to his scalp. He thought of it as simply brown, but thanks to a particularly persistent young server in the Haven tavern he had learned it was a rich chestnut, with streaks of auburn and gold. His skin was tanned from the sun, and soft freckles adorned his nose, which offset his full lips, high cheekbones, and square jaw.

He felt heat creep up his neck as he felt the intensity of Dorian’s gaze.

Bull had described Dorian as pretty. And he was. He was tall, with broad shoulders and was strong, especially for a Mage. Mostly because Dorian used his staff as a physical weapon, not just a means to concentrate his magic, chiseling the man’s upper body. Bull would likely have some competition with the pretty young girls in Haven.  
  
Bull slung an arm over Arames’ shoulder.  
  
“Boss,” he whispered gently. Arames looked up at the giant next to him and then back at Dorian. The mage was suddenly studying his hands intently. Cassandra was scowling and Varric and Sera were sharing a bemused expression.  
  
“Oh, Creators,” Arames muttered.  
  
“It wasn't that long.” Bull whispered, smiling. “But there was that thing you wanted to do.”  
  
Arames cleared his throat.  
  
“Sera.”  
  
“Yes, all-touched Herald?” She had a wicked grin.  
  
“I have something I need you to do. It's important.”  
  
Her smile faded and she scowled. “What is it?”  
  
He pulled an envelope from his tunic and handed it to her.  
  
“Should I…should I not return, I need you to make sure that this gets to my clan. To my sister.”  
  
“All right…” She said. She studied the letter suspiciously.  
  
“You have a sister?” Cassandra did not try to hide her surprise.  
  
Arames nodded. “Two, actually. Both younger. But Izzy, she's only twelve. She's…fragile. She should know what became of me. And that she should run.”  
  
“Why'd you leave then, if she's so fragile?”  
  
“Keeper Deshana will take care of her. It is better that I am not there.”  
  
It was the first time he had mentioned his clan or any family to other members of the Inquisition. For the first time since he awoke in shackles he felt like crying.  
  
“Please, Sera. It is import to me. If anything happened to her.” His voice cracked. Bull squeezed his shoulder.  
  
“Yes, fine.” She stuffed the letter somewhere.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
They sat in silence. Finally Arames cleared his throat and stood up.  
  
“Well, shall we head up to the castle?”

 

========================================================================  
Dorian got Leliana's agents through the castle without detection. Alexius had been unprepared for the assassins and even less prepared for Dorian and Felix’s betrayals. Arames had not been prepared for Dorian to block Alexius’ spell, sending them tumbling into the future. Arames felt the room spin as he thought of what became of Bull, Cassandra, of his sisters…his knees gave way.

Dorian caught his elbow.  
  
“Don't worry. I'm here. I'll protect you.” He was so earnest. Arames squeezed his arm.  
  
“How long do you think we’ve been gone?”  
  
Dorian shrugged.

They wandered through the castle, doing their best to avoid the Red Lyrium growing from the walls and people. Grand Enchanter Fiona oriented them to the time. Arames sank on the steps of the dungeon, his staff across his knees.  
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
“A year, Dorian. We've missed a year.”  
  
“It looks like we did not miss much.”  
  
Arames scowled. This was not the time for sarcasm. Dorian cleared his throat and started to babble nervously.  
  
“We can fix it. I may be able to reverse the spell so that this never happened. But this world is unstable. We need to move quickly.”  
  
Dorian offered his hand. Arames took it and squeezed Dorian’s gently, surprising him.  
  
“Lead on.”

They found Bull and Cassandra, infected and dying from Red Lyrium exposure. They found Leliana alive, ravaged by exposure to the Blight, and bloodthirsty.  
  
“You are not the least bit curious about how we came to be here?” Dorian was baffled.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Alexius sent us through time. None of this was supposed to happen.”  
  
“And you wonder why people fear mages.”  
  
“Now see here—“  
  
Arames interrupted Dorian.  
  
“Leliana, where is Cullen? What became of the others?”  
  
“Dead, they are all dead. I heard him torture Cullen for weeks…”  
  
“Creators…”  
  
She brushed past them, a bow and quiver strapped to her back.  
  
“I know where Alexius is hiding.”

They followed her, searching for a means to unlock the door in the Main Hall. After what felt like days but was likely only an hour or so, they stumbled across the last of Alexius’ guards. Arames fished the last of the Red Lyrium shards out of a dead Tevinter soldier’s pocket.  
  
“I think I know what to do with these,” Dorian murmured, studying the pieces. He got a small crease between his brows and chewed on his lower lip when he concentrated. His eyes were an uncommon color Arames couldn't place. It was not something he should be focusing on. And yet. Dorian looked up at Arames and smiled.  
  
“Shall we go restore the fabric of time?”

And they did. Watching Bull, Cassandra, and Leliana die; seeing Dorian lose Felix and have to kill his own mentor drained Arames of any remaining energy. Luckily Alexius had no fight in him, and the free mages joined the Inquisition. Cassandra was angry at him for having them join as allies. Magic made Bull nervous but had been supportive.  
  
“Look, Boss. No one else is making these calls. Everyone is gonna judge after the fact.”

Arames sat by the fireplace, enjoying the silence of the empty tavern. He couldn't travel right away. Radcliffe had been too draining. 

He heard a soft cough and turned. Dorian stood with two glasses and a bottle of something in his hands.  
  
“Mind if I join you?”

Arames gestured at the empty armchair next to him. Dorian sat and poured a dark amber liquid into the glasses and handed one to Arames. He took a sip and coughed. Dorian had a bemused expression on his face.  
“Don't drink too often, I presume.”  
  
Arames nodded. “We would have wine at special events, weddings and such. But nothing like that. What is it?”  
  
“Brandy, a rather decent year too.”  
  
Arames took a small sip. It burned going down, but he could taste a faint sweetness in the liquor. He swirled the snifter and watched the liquid swirl in the glass. It felt good to hold something.  
  
“I cannot get the images out of my head,” he whispered. “Seeing their bodies strewn about. Watching Leliana murder Felix…the horde of demons…how are you holding up?”  
  
“I'm just peachy.”  
  
“Do you always do that? Make jokes about serious things?”  
  
Dorian swirled his glass and took a sip.  
  
“It’s a bad habit. Are you always so serious?”  
  
“Fair point. Not always. But I was unsure of being the First in my clan, and now I'm deciding the future of all the free mages in Thedas. How did I end up with more responsibility?” Dorian remained quiet and listened to Arames ramble.  
  
“Did you know that the other day Iron Bull slept in a chair outside my room? He worried I'd run off. He was right, too…Creators…”  
  
“Bull tells me you are quite young.”  
  
“I suppose so. It must be different for…”  
  
“For?”  
  
Arames shrugged.  
  
“Humans?”  
  
Dorian chuckled and took another sip. “What is that word elves use, shim, shim something…”  
  
“Shemlen…”  
  
“That's the one. I don't know much about the Dalish, growing up in Tevinter. The clans don't travel that far north for obvious reasons.”  
  
“But you had slaves.”  
  
“Ah, well. Not personally. My family did. We treated them well, for what it's worth.”  
  
“Sera told me about the alienage in Denerim. I don't know which is worse. Bull made an interesting point the other day, about how people aren't really free whether under the Qun or not. The idea that you can just be anything isn't true.”  
  
“He is wiser than he appears.”  
  
“I always wanted to become a Grey Warden. Who you were before you join the order doesn't matter. Look at the Hero of Ferelden. A Dalish elf ends up Warden Commander and stops the blight in a year’s time.”  
  
“The uniform would look good on you.”  
  
Arames smiled into his drink. He held up his left hand. A faint green light emitted from his palm. “Not that it matters now.”  
  
Dorian raised his glass in salute.  
  
“Then we take what victories we can. Here's to stopping this Elder One's future.”  
  
They gently clinked glasses and drank in silence by the fire.


	2. Chapter 2

Arames leapt into Bull’s arms in the sparring ring. The Qunari mercenary dropped his axe as he caught Arames with a hearty laugh.  
“Aww, Boss, I missed you too.”  
  
“Bull! Bull! He's staying!”  
  
“The ‘Vint?”  
  
Arames nodded. Dorian was staying. He felt giddy.  
  
Bull tossed him in the air. For a second Arames felt like a child, and with a twinge he thought of his father. He missed his family. Bull lowered him to the ground.  
  
“What's your plan with him?”  
  
“I'm going to give him the ole Ben-Hassrath approach.”  
  
“Oh? What's that?”  
  
“I'm going to watch him and see who he flirts with in the tavern. Hopefully not too many of the serving girls catch his eye.”  
  
“Is that all you think I do, Boss?”  
  
“Of course not. You do much more than just flirt with the serving girls, and healers, and—“  
  
“Alright, alright. What can I say? I'm a people person. But to be honest, Boss. I'd say you have a chance with him. Frankly, you've got a good shot with almost anyone.”  
  
Arames blushed slightly.  
  
“You will come to the tavern, won't you? I have a meeting with Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana.”  
  
Bull nodded, distracted as he picked his axe up off the ground. He looked back a Arames. “Wait, when you said Ben-Hassrath treatment, you meant me?”  
  
“Thanks Bull! You are the best.”  
  
“Vashaden,” Bull muttered as Arames ran back up the stairs towards the Chantry.  
  
“Something bothering you?” Blackwall asked as he walked by. Bull shook his head.  
  
“I gotta date with a ‘Vint.”  
  
“What in the—“  
  
“Never mind. Wicked Grace in the tavern after supper?”  
  
“Alright…”

But Arames did not come by the tavern that night. Nor the next day. He had been in meetings with Josephine for much of the morning, then retired to his room. Varric finally spotted him marching over to Solas, but Arames seemed frustrated after their conversation.  
  
Sera was the one who dragged Arames to the tavern to have supper. He poked at his stew, staring off in the distance. Varric and Bull watched him, concern apparent on both their faces. Varric cleared his throat.  
  
“So, Bull, you're a Qunari spy?”  
  
“You've heard of the Ben-Hassrath?”  
  
“I…spent some time in Kirkwall.”  
  
Bull made a sound in the back of his throat. “That must've been nice.”  
  
Varric grinned, noticing Arames was listening.  
  
“You could say that.”  
  
“You know Varric,” Dorian said, “I've been to Kirkwall.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Bit of a shit hole, really.”  
  
Varric gave a wistful sigh. “Yeah.”

Arames went back to studying his stew, his eyes bright with questions.  
  
“Are you going to finish that, or what?” Sera wiped grease off her face with her sleeve. Arames slid the bowl across the table and she dug in.  
  
“You okay, Boss?”  
  
Arames nodded.  
  
“Homesick?” Dorian asked, his voice gentle.  
  
“I suppose so. I've been reading some histories…of Andraste, Shartan, the Hero of Ferelden. I just started your book, Varric. The Tales of the Champion.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And I wonder what history will say about the knife ear who was named the Herald of Andraste. If I'll be labeled a heretic and my efforts all but forgotten. How I'll die.”  
  
They were all stunned by the bitterness in his tone. Arames shook his head and stood.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
He ran out of the tavern.  
  
Varric rubbed his eyes. “Well, shit.”  
  
“Poor kid,” Bull muttered.  
  
Dorian stood.  
  
“Where’re you going?” Sera asked, her mouth full of Arames' dinner.  
  
“That is absolutely none of your business.”

 

Arames heard the soft knock at his door and quickly wiped the tears from his eyes.  
  
“Come in.”  
  
He heard a quiet rustling at the door and smelled a spicy mixture of musk, leather, and the sandalwood scented oil Dorian used in his hair.  
  
“I hope I am not disturbing you.”  
  
Arames shook his head.  
  
Dorian walked over and studied the books strewn about Arames’ desk. Next to the pile of parchments with reports and requests that required the Herald’s attention.  
  
“For what it's worth, I am sorry,” he muttered.  
  
“Whatever for?”  
  
Dorian sat down next to Arames on the bed.  
  
“For what has happened to your people. At the hands of my Countrymen, the Chantry…and for the burden you face as the Herald. For the pain the mark on your hand causes…shall I go on?”  
  
“I'd listen to you talk all day,” Arames studied his hands, afraid of how Dorian might react. Dorian chuckled.  
  
“I do have a marvelous voice, don't I?”  
  
They sat quietly. Arames finally looked up. Dorian was watching him, his eyes gentle.  
  
“How do you do it, Dorian?”  
  
“How do I do what?”  
  
“You don't care what people think or what they say about you.”  
  
“I've gotten used to being a social pariah. It suits me.”  
  
“Does it?”  
  
Dorian cleared his throat.  
  
“I've become accustomed to…not fitting in.”  
  
“That doesn't mean it is easy.”  
  
Arames was met with an arched eyebrow.  
  
“I didn't come here to talk about myself. As fascinating as I may be. I came to see if you were alright.”  
  
“Yes. No…I don't know…”  
  
“You miss your sisters.”  
  
“And…my father…somewhat. Creators, I didn't even want to be Deshana’s First. I just wanted to be unimportant. Just a hunter who made sure the clan had food. To be responsible for everyone…”  
  
“Only to stumble across a situation where the stakes are even higher. I see.”  
  
Arames grabbed Dorian’s arm. They stared at each other for a long moment.  
  
“I didn't leave because I refused the role of First. I accepted the responsibility. Whether or not I wanted it was irrelevant. I left because I had to. I won't run away from this.”  
  
“And I didn't leave my homeland because I had no mentor. I left because it was the right thing to do.”  
  
“Yes. I just didn't want you to think—“  
  
“Are you so concerned with what I may or may not think of you?”  
  
Dorian seemed genuinely confused by Arames’ sincerity. Arames shook his head.  
  
“It is important for my friends to know that I hold to my word. That I do not do anything without reason.”  
  
“Oh, and is that what we are? Friends?”  
  
Arames smiled.  
  
“It's a start…Dorian?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Will you tell me about Tevinter?”  
  
“Full of questions are we? Ask away.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where our marshmallow fluff filled Inquisitor tries to flirt with Dorian.

Two weeks of slogging through the Fallow Mire had tested everyone's patience. Bull had obligingly carried Arames on his shoulders through one of the deeper bogs as they searched for the missing scouts. Blackwall helped Arames burn the remaining victims of whatever plague had swept through the area. Arames said an extra prayer to Falon’Din for the smaller bodies and asked Mythal to watch over his sisters. 

But he had been able to save the Inquisition troops, which was a better outcome than on the Stormy Coast of Highever. He distracted himself from the endless wet and ceaseless battles with undead by collecting specimens for Minaeve. He was studying some spirit essences in his tent when Dorian poked his head in. Bull had gone back to the campfire as the “glowy magic shit” made him nervous.  
  
“There is a grumpy Qunari outside who would like to go to bed. I offered to switch so that you need not be disturbed. Is that alright?”  
  
Arames nodded. Dorian sat on Bull’s bedroll cross legged. He had an extra pillow and what was quickly becoming a musty blanket due to the unrelenting rain of the mire. But Dorian was always cold, and if the blanket kept him from complaining so be it.  
  
“You know, Dorian, Bull might be the best person to room with. He practically lets off steam out here.”  
  
Dorian’s nose wrinkled in mock outrage. “But kafass, the smell.”  
  
“Well, few of us can smell as pleasant as you.”  
  
Arames looked up from the glowing orb in his hands. Dorian looked bewildered.  
  
“Oh Creators, I didn't mean to offend you!”  
  
Dorian shook his head.  
  
“You think I…smell nice?”  
  
Arames bit his lower lip.  
  
“I…well…yes?”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
Arames placed his specimens back in the canvas rucksack he had been issued from requisitions. It was moments like these where he missed his long hair, which would have hid the color that rose up his cheeks and through his ears. Creators, what Dorian must think of him.  
  
They were interrupted by Sera. Who handed Arames a soggy note.  
  
“Raven for you. Maybe it's Leliana saying we can leave this bloody swamp.”  
  
Arames broke the seal and scanned the letter.  
  
“You're in luck, Sera. It's from Cullen. Saying we can leave this bloody swamp. They are ready to attempt to seal the breach.”  
  
Sera whooped and ran to tell the others.  
  
“Well, I look forward to sleeping in a proper bed.” Dorian yawned.  
  
“Good night, Dorian.”  
  
“You're not going to sleep?”  
  
Arames shook his head.  
  
“I am going to write my sister. She should know…in case.”  
  
“In case she needs to start running.” Dorian remembered the conversation in the Seagull from a few weeks prior. “What is it?” Dorian’s curiosity got the better of him. “Surely this is more than mere homesickness.”  
  
Arames sighed.  
  
“My sister was supposed to come to the conclave. After everything that has happened,” he looked at his hand. “I'm glad she didn't. But she would have been better at this.”  
  
“But she's twelve!”  
  
Arames chuckled and shook his head. “My other sister. She is younger, by two whole minutes.”  
  
“You have a twin sister?”  
  
“She's a hunter in our clan. Our Keeper wanted to send her to the Conclave. Ishana is better at stealth and, frankly, doesn't have my penchant for getting into trouble. But then Izzy began to have the dreams…she needed the clan more than it needed me…”  
  
“So you took your sister’s place.”  
  
Arames nodded.  
  
“Dalish clans, for a variety of reasons, only keep a certain number of mages in any given clan. Ysabelle—Izzy—my youngest sister, would have been the fourth mage. I could not allow her to be thrust upon another clan where she knew no one so I chose to leave. That way, Izzy would be second and would have a bodyguard in Ishana.”  
  
“Where are they to run?”  
  
Arames shrugged. "Ishana would decide. But I've been reading Varric's book. Do you think this pirate Isabella would be willing to just sail across the Amaranthine Sea. Away from everything?”  
  
"I don't know. That would be a question for Varric. "  
  
Arames made a few frustrated scribbles and then gave up. Dorian placed a hand on Arames' shoulder.  
  
“There will be time enough after we return to Haven and seal the breach.”  
  
“And if there isn't?”  
  
Dorian frowned for a moment, thinking. Finally, he smiled and began to speak.  
  
“Then I will make sure that your sister rises through the proper training in the circles of the Magisterium. And will either hire your twin as a bodyguard or have Iron Bull bring her into the Chargers. Will that placate your anxiety enough to allow you to sleep?”  
  
“Oh, Dorian. Would you? You are wonderful.“  
  
“I would and I will and I am. But for now, humor me, and get some sleep.“


	4. Chapter 4

The effort to restore the breach took every ounce of his energy. After he stumbled down the mountain pass, he found his way to a large fire and sat next to Dorian.  
  
“So it is done. “ Arames muttered.  
  
“How are you feeling?”  
  
“The pain has significantly lessened since we sealed it. Maybe the mark is connected to the Fade somehow.”

Dorian handed Arames a mug and filled it with spiced wine. Arames wondered how much it would take for him to have the courage to kiss the handsome Tevinter mage. Of course, he would ruin a perfectly wonderful friendship. It wasn't worth the risk.  
  
"Dorian?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Will you—"  
  
He wanted to say "stay," but he was interrupted by the bells in the Chantry and shouts from the gates. Cassandra ran by, her sword already drawn. Arames ran down the steps towards the front gate. 

By the time they helped fire the second trebuchet Arames' hands were shaking; due to fear or exhaustion, he could not be sure. He heard the Inquisition troops cheer as the mountain fell upon the encroaching army. Dorian's hand brushed against Arames' shoulder.  
  
"Here, this might help."  
  
He held a small bottle of lyrium potion. Arames swallowed a few mouthfuls and grimaced.  
  
"Creators, that tastes awful."  
  
"But it has stopped your tremor."  
  
"You noticed?"  
  
Dorian opened his mouth to reply, but instead Arames heard the scream of some unnatural animal. A blighted High Dragon flew past and spat fire at the trebuchet, sending splinters flying everywhere. Smoke burned Arames' eyes and he felt a sharp pain in his side. He looked around. People were screaming.  
  
"Dorian!" Arames cried out.  
  
"He's here!" Cassandra yelled, lifting a piece of wood off of Dorian's leg.  
  
Arames stood and yelped with pain. Something was broken. He dropped to his knees.  
  
"You're injured," Cassandra ran over and helped Arames stand.  
  
"Is Dorian alright?" Arames looked over. Bull was helping Dorian stand up.  
  
"He is fine, Herald. But you need to have a healer study your wound."  
  
Arames shook his head. "We need to get people back to the gates."

He had never seen so many dead bodies. And the Red Templars did not seem human. Arames did his best to avoid vomiting as he watched a small strange boy help Chancellor Rodrick stumble into the Chantry.  
Blackwall.  
Cassandra.  
Cullen.  
Bull.  
Leliana.  
They had all likely seen worse.  
But he hadn't. 

Neither had Dorian. Or Josephine. Or Sera. Varric had survived a friendship with Hawke, so he seemed simultaneously unfazed and horrified. Solas and Vivienne busied themselves by tending to the wounded. But Arames saw a quiet desperation in everyone's eyes.

Cullen talked strategy and the fact that choosing how to die somehow made the fact that they were dying better. Arames heard the quiet sobs from the back of the chantry. The children of the Circle who had no parents to comfort them.

But then hope in the form of a pale boy named Cole who could read minds. Roderick had a way out. Arames had learned enough in his short tenure as Herald of Andraste to know that sacrificing one life for many was, in Leliana's own words, a good bargain.

“But what of your escape?” Cullen demanded. Arames had no answer.  
  
“No,” Dorian protested, “there must be another way.”  
  
He had been burned by the dragon and his whole right arm was bandaged. Arames pulled Dorian intro a dark corner in the chantry.  
  
“A few weeks ago you made me a promise. Will you keep your word?”  
  
“Venhedis, do not throw your life away.”  
  
Arames smiled up at Dorian.  
  
“I leave this world willingly knowing you will care of my family. But I have the chance to save many more than just them. You are a true friend and…you are a wonderful man, Dorian. I am lucky to have known you, brief though it was.”  
  
Dorian blinked away tears. “You have my word.”  
  
“Tell them—“ Arames’ voice broke. “Tell Ishana that she would have sorted this whole thing out within minutes and I wasted too much time. And tell Izzy…that every Halla she sees in her dreams is her brother, watching her from afar, as Falon'Din guides him from this world.”  
  
“Kafass…” Dorian wiped his eyes.  
  
Arames hesitated for a moment, then kissed Dorian's cheek. “Thank you.”  
  
And he ran out with Bull, Blackwall, and Sera to cause an avalanche that would kill them all. 

But even then he could not let them remain. He sent them back up the mountain as they awaited the signal from Cullen.

Arames watched the torches of the approaching horde. It was silent and the snow began to fall in earnest. He shivered. He looked at the sky and tried to keep his hands from shaking. Creators, he didn't want to die. He wanted to see his sisters again. To have a chance to mend his relationship with his father. To tell Dorian how he felt.

“At least I will see mamae, again…” He whispered.  
  
Then a dragon screamed and some kind of human-like monster—Corypheus— tossed him around like a rag doll. Arames saw stars as his head smacked the wooden frame of the trebuchet. But as his vision cleared he saw a flare. Cullen had gotten them above the treeline. Dorian would keep his word and his sisters would be safe.  
  
“Falon'Din guide me,” he prayed, as he grabbed a sword and cut the rope and fell through the ground into some tunnel.

=========================================================================  
The headache lasted for three days, but his vision cleared after the first night and the ringing in his ears stopped sometime the second day. A concussion and fractured skull will do that. The healers cleared him for travel their third day in the mountains. It was slow going with so many wounded, and the snow drifts meant the wagons needed to be dug out. It was when Arames felt well enough to cast spells and enchanted the wagons the same way he did with the Aravalls, that they began to make better time through the mountains.

On the fifth day they took the bandage off his head. The cuts had healed and he was left with bruising that would fade with time. He was instructed not to engage in any combat—real or simulated—and he was to avoid other “strenuous activity.” The healer had placed extra emphasis on the latter directive. It left Arames bewildered. He looked over to Iron Bull, who had practically been glued to his side since Haven.  
  
“What does she think I do?”  
  
Bull laughed and ruffled Arames’ hair.  
  
“Who is the better question, Boss. All I know is I'm not letting you outta my sight again. When we saw that mountain come crashing down. We thought...” He shook his head and sighed.  
  
Dorian came into the tent and paused, studying the two. He cleared his throat.  
  
“Am I interrupting anything?”  
  
Bull made noise in the back of his throat that Arames recognized as a sign of irritation. Bull kept a hand on the back of Arames’ neck. A protective gesture.  
  
“Not at all. What is it, Dorian?” Arames made an effort to keep his voice neutral, but he could not hide his excitement every time he saw that unmistakable silhouette in the entrance to his tent.  
  
“I thought you might want this back.”  
  
Dorian handed Arames the canvas russack he had carried with him since he started traveling with the Inquisition. Arames couldn't even remember where he had left it and had not thought to seek it out while Haven burned.

But Dorian had. Dorian had remembered the bag’s location and grabbed it and carried it through the mountains. Why? In the off chance Arames would return? Arames realized he had just been staring at the bag and looked up at Dorian. He still couldn't place the color of Dorian's eyes but could stare at them all day.  
  
“I…thank you, Dorian. I can't believe you remembered…”  
  
“It was selfish, on my part. I wanted something to remember you by should you not return.”  
  
Arames grinned. Maybe he did have a chance with this one.  
  
“And here I am.”  
  
“Here you are.”  
  
“Is that your bag of creepy magic shit?” Bull asked, shifting away from Arames just slightly.  
  
“Among other things. I have some keepsakes from…”  
  
The word "home" caught in his throat. That felt like another lifetime. Since when did a tent in the Frostbacks feel more like home than his clan? But it did. He cleared his throat.  
  
“…from before I became the Herald.”  
  
“Like what, Boss?”  
  
Arames rifled through the bag and pulled out a small box. He opened it, and carefully unfolded a piece of canvas. He smiled, absently as he stared down at it. He then showed it to Bull and Dorian.

Painted, in painstaking detail, were two elven girls. One had long auburn hair that spilled over her shoulder in a loose braid and eyes a deep emerald green. She had a bow strapped to her back and a dagger sheathed on her hip and wore a bemused expression on her face. The other girl was small, the top of her head did not even reach the shoulder of the older girl. She had large wide set blue eyes and messy blonde hair that tumbled past her shoulders. She smiled, sweetly, but her eyes looked sad, and older than the person they belonged to.

“This is my twin, Ishana. She is a hunter with our clan. And this is Izzy, my little Halla.” Arames flung his arms around Dorian in an embrace. “Thank you for this, Dorian.”  
  
Dorian froze as Arames’ arms wrapped around his neck. But after a moment he relaxed and gave Arames a gentle squeeze.  
Bull coughed. Arames felt his ears warm as he blushed. Dorian took a hasty step back and quickly excused himself.  
Arames scowled at Bull.  
  
“What was that for?”  
  
“I didn't do anything, Boss.”  
  
“He practically ran out of here.”  
  
“He has to figure out what he wants, Boss. And, frankly, so do you.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Bull mussed Arames' hair and stood up.  
  
“Why don't you let that head of yours heal up, and then you can start using it.”  
  
He handed Arames the portrait. Arames carefully folded the picture and placed it in the box and closed the latch. When he looked up, Bull was gone.

===========================================================================  
Bull’s words echoed in his mind over the next few weeks. They had found Skyhold in the mountains and Arames joined Bull and Blackwall in clearing out brush to allow the soldiers and refugees to have some form of shelter. He and Cullen helped some of the laborers repair the roof to the stables. Dennet soon had a number of thoroughbreds and the smell was comforting to Arames. Blackwall felt similarly and had a work table set up so he could “keep his hands busy.”

Arames heard from Varric that Dorian had spent the past two weeks in the library, organizing the boxes of books that arrived at Skyhold daily. He found Dorian in an alcove filing a variety of musty tomes. A stack of books sat atop a very comfortable looking armchair and covered a plush wool rug. Dorian began talking the moment he saw Arames exit the stairwell. 

“Brilliant, isn't it. One moment you're restoring order in a world gone mad. That should be enough for anyone to handle, yes? Then, out of nowhere, an Archdemon comes and kicks you in the head. 'What you thought this would be easy?' 'No, we just wish you wouldn't crush our village like an anthill.' 'Sorry about that, Archdemons like to crush, you know. Can't be helped.'” He spun around and arched an eyebrow. “Am I speaking too quickly for you?”

Arames folded his arms across his chest and studied Dorian for a moment.  
  
“I was just distracted is all.”  
  
Dorian's lip quirked into a smile.  
  
"Distracted? By my wit and charm? I have plenty of both."  
  
"Among other things..."  
  
Dorian's smile faded.  
  
“I always assumed this 'Elder One' behind the Venatori was a magister. But this...this is something else completely. In Tevinter, they say the Chantry's tales of Magisters starting the blight are just that: tales. But here we are. One of those very Magisters a darkspawn."  
  
"Who does the Imperium say started the blight?"  
  
"Oh, you know how it is: not us. They say darkspawn were always there. Magisters and the blight are not even related. Is that a surprise? No one wants to admit they shit the bed. But if Corypheus is one of the Magisters who entered the Black City, and he's darkspawn...what other explanation is there?"  
  
"We don't know that. We only know what he claimed to be."  
  
"True. He might be a convincing liar. Or delusional. Or insane. But how many delusional maniacs are going to have that knowledge. He broke open the Fade." Dorian leaned against a bookshelf and stared out the window. "I knew what I was taught could not be the whole truth. But I assumed there had to be a kernel of it. Somewhere. But no. It was us all along. We destroyed the world."  
  
Arames placed a hand on Dorian's shoulder. "You didn't do anything. Those men did, a thousand years ago."  
  
"True, though one of them is up and walking around right now. Not to mention I have idiot countrymen who would happily follow him down that path again. No one will thank me, whatever happens. No one will thank you, either. You know that, yes?”  
  
Arames picked up one of the books from the floor, Principles of Battle Magic. He began to leaf through the heavy tomb. “That's not why I'm doing this.”  
  
“I knew there was something clever about you.” Dorian grabbed an armload of books. "All I know is this: Corypheus needs to be stopped. Men like him ruined my homeland. I won't stand by and let him ruin the world." He marched toward another section of the library. He turned and called over his shoulder. “Oh, and congratulations on the whole leading-the-Inquisition thing, by the way.”

Arames flopped into Dorian's armchair and began to read about Knight Enchanters. He would wait for Dorian to make up his mind. He already knew there was no one else at Skyhold who peaked his interest. His hand was outstretched, it was up to the handsome man grumbling in Tevene whether or not he would take it.


	5. Chapter 5

It was mid autumn by the time Arames was cleared to resume his travels. He had used the time off to learn the basics of sword combat from Cullen and Blackwall, and spar with Cassandra. At Cullen's insistence they used dulled practice swords, while Bull forced Arames to do extra cardiovascular and strength training so he could use both his staff and spirit blade in battle. 

Dorian would stop by to watch them practice. He had somehow perfected the art of appearing simultaneously intrigued and bored. Cullen was always distracting, though as the weather cooled he kept a thin cotton shirt on while he trained, which helped. But only so much. Arames could never tell who was catching Dorian's eye. 

 

He had almost assembled the necessary ingredients to craft a spirit blade. Dagna, Harritt, and Arames spent several days in the Undercroft going over designs and specifications. Harritt was particularly troubled with how to design or construct a sheath for a weapon that, arguably, did not exist. It would be ready by the time Arames returned from the Dirth. The others could call it whatever they wanted. He would not use the name that conjured the slaughter of his people. 

“This place used to be beautiful,” Vivienne had murmured, while they walked through an abandoned village, burned to the ground in the course of the Civil War. “It will take years to recover.”  
  
“Yes, minus the bodies, the trenches, and the smell of death, it is quite charming,” Dorian retorted.  
  
Arames watched a Halla drink from the river. Seeing them roam freely provided some small comfort to him as they battled undead.  
  
“The noble's will still expect a harvest,” Solas said quietly. He placed a hand on Arames’ shoulder, “what is troubling you, lethalin?” 

Arames picked up a rock and tossed it into the Evanuris. It skipped along the surface before sinking into the soft rapids. The Halla looked up, as if suddenly aware of their presence. Arames approached the gentle creature slowly. It seemed wary at first but did not run. Arames ran a hand along its nose and scratched behind its ear. 

“This was supposed to be my home,” Arames said. The Halla’s ear twitched. “I could have lived in a house. My Izzy would have a garden and a small stable where you could eat sugar and get brushed every day. You would like that, wouldn't you?”  
  
The Halla nuzzled Arames in the shoulder.  
  
“You know,” Dorian startled Arames as he reached out to stroke the Halla's neck, "I used to go boating with mother on a river like this as a child. Well, a servant would take me on the river. Mother would stay inside with a cool drink.”  
  
Dorian did not talk about his family, save passing comments on being estranged from them. Arames felt a stab of pity for the lonely little boy who's own mother could not be bothered to care for him.  
  
"I’m sorry," Arames replied. "You deserved better than that."  
  
"I’m sure by now you’ve realized that the world is not a fair place."  
  
The Halla fixed its dark eyes on Dorian and bleated.  
  
"He likes you," Arames observed.  
  
"Does he now?" Dorian replied. He looked over at Arames.  
  
"Yes. He does."  
  
The Halla nudged Dorian in the shoulder and ran off into the unplowed fields. 

A large rock then sailed over their heads and landed with a loud splash near them, spraying them with water.  
  
"I hate to interrupt the petting zoo," Bull called out, "but it's time to eat."  
  
"Venhedis, how much longer are we to travel out here?" Dorian grumbled as they walked back to camp.  
  
"We are three weeks in, only four more left. Don’t tell me you've already finished the books you brought with you."  
  
"Books, yes. Wine, no." Dorian smiled at Arames. "Care to join me?"  
  
Blackwall thrust a practice sword in Arames' hand.  
  
"Practice. Then wine," the Warden growled.  
  
"Do I have to?" Arames whined.  
  
"You were the one who asked me to train you, if I recall." Despite his stern exterior, Arames saw the hint of a smile behind the heavy beard. Arames huffed and turned to Dorian.  
  
“Rain check?”  
  
“Perhaps I'll watch. I have nothing else to do this evening.” 

=======================================================================================

They arrived back at Skyhold as the first of the snow fell. Emprise Du Lion had already frozen over, and with no harvest from the Hinterlands or the Plains, a lot of people would not survive the winter. Securing Skyhold as major trade hub would help, but Arames worried it would not be enough. He was going over various trade negotiations in his room when Josephine approached him, wringing her hands. 

“My lord,” she started.  
  
“What is it, Lady Montilyet?”  
  
“We have received word from your clan…and…” 

She handed him a note with a shaking hand. Arames took it. He felt faint. 

He read Keeper Deshana’s words over and over.  
  
“What does she mean 'overwhelmed their hunters?'”  
  
“I do not know, my lord.”  
  
“Creators, my sisters…my father…”  
  
“I could have the Duke of Wycombe send aid—“  
  
“No!” Arames shouted, startling her. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice even. “Forgive me, lady Josephine, but I would prefer if we handled it ourselves. Could you send for Sister Leliana?”  
  
“Of course, my lord, at once!”  
  
Leliana was in his chambers within minutes and provided Arames with several options.  
  
“You will have word within a few days.”  
  
Arames nodded and she departed.


	6. Chapter 6

To their credit his friends did not try to tell him everything would be fine. Blackwall and Cullen insisted Arames continue training and Iron Bull had Arames join the Chargers for drinks in the Tavern. Vivienne invited Arames to join her for tea. Varric provided the best distraction in the form of Marianne Hawke. Cassandra was furious that Varric had lied to her, but Arames was able to reason with her. Varric appreciated not being stuffed and mounted on the wall. 

Arames had read about the Champion, but was not prepared for the woman in the flesh. While not particularly tall, she had a commanding presence, was incredibly strong and lithe with a shock of dark red hair that tumbled down her back. She spent most of her time drinking and playing cards in the tavern. And. Flirted. With. Everyone. She seemed particularly delighted that Cullen was around and would make a point of following him around Skyhold grounds when he wasn't training the soldiers. On more than one occasion she had stopped by to watch Arames train.

"Maker's breath, that woman," Cullen grumbled. Hawke let out a shrill whistle and yelled for them to take off their shirts.  
  
"I kind of like her," Arames said.  
  
"You didn't have to deal with her in Kirkwall. In the Gallows. Everyday...for years..."  
  
"Oi, Knight Captain! Take off your trousers, I have a confession to make."  
  
Cullen groaned.  
  
Arames laughed. The first time in days. Cullen noticed and his eyes brightened.  
  
"I believe you are ready to practice with your Spirit Blade, Inquisitor. Perhaps, tomorrow?"  
  
Arames wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded. He welcomed the distraction.

 

When he finally got word that his clan had been saved from the bandits Arames dragged Dorian to the Herald's Rest for drinks. Hawke bought a bottle of something fizzy and toasted the good news. She knew what it was like to lose family, and seemed genuinely happy that Arames still had his.  
She leveled her dark brown eyes on Dorian.  
  
"So, you're the Tevinter."

Arames felt Dorian tense next to him. He felt an overwhelming urge to squeeze his hand.  
  
"I am," Dorian replied.  
  
"Did you know a magister named Danarius?"  
  
“Not personally, but I am familiar with his reputation.”

“Oh, what was it?”  
“Rumor had it he experimented on his…”  
  
“Slaves.” Hawke finished his sentence.  
  
"Yes. Though he disappeared years ago. Was on Seheron for a bit and then I don't know where. His son has his seat in the Magisterium. Why do you ask?”  
  
Hawke grinned widely, “I've only met two other people from Tevinter. Mother always taught me to begin with commonalities. Didn't think you'd know my other friend from Tevinter. Though he might have been your type.” She glanced over at Arames and winked.  
  
“You met Danarius?”  
  
“Killed him, actually. That happens a lot when I meet people. Come to think of it.”  
  
"Lovely friends you have, Varric."  
  
The dwarf shrugged. "This is Hawke on her best behavior."  
  
"Tsk—the night is still young, Varric," Hawke rested her feet on the table and finished whatever liquor was left in the bottle she carried.

Iron Bull leaned in.  
  
“You fought the Arishock.”  
  
For an instant Arames saw the faintest hint of nerves in Hawke's face, but then she was a mask of conviviality. She nodded.  
  
"Killed him, too."  
  
“How?” Bull was incredulous.  
  
“Spar with me tomorrow, big boy, and I'll show you.”  
  
“Hawke,” Varric warned.  
  
Bull grinned at Hawke. He looked hungry. “Blades?”  
  
Varric groaned.  
  
“You use a broadsword or one of those spears?”  
  
“Great axe.”  
  
“Ooh, fun,” Hawke flipped her hair behind her ear. Arames could not help but notice her bosom was remarkably more visible than it had been just a few minutes ago. Varric looked like he was getting a headache. Bull’s good eye was fixed on Hawke's face.  
  
“Oh,” Arames whispered, looking between the two of them.  
  
“I stick to blades, mostly. Isabella taught me some tricks as a duelist, but I've trained with a sword. Fought in the Ferelden Army during the blight and survived Ostagar. So...you pick.”  
  
“We could forget weapons, just do hand to hand.”  
  
“I’d be just fine with that—“  
  
“Wait!” Arames cried out. “No! You're not actually fighting!”  
  
“I wouldn't hurt him,” Hawke pouted. “Much.”  
  
Bull crossed his arms across his chest and glared at Hawke.  
  
“You are very confident.”  
  
“I am very good.”  
  
“I don't doubt it.”  
  
“I'd be happy to show you anytime. What are you doing later tonight?”  
  
Bull made a noise in his throat Arames did not recognize.  
  
“I don't think we're taking about sparing anymore, are we?” He whispered.  
  
Dorian nodded.  
  
“Ah.”

Varric downed his glass and rubbed his eyes. He had seen Hawke at work before. Judging by what Arames had read, her last few relationships had not ended well. She had killed her own lover after he went mad and destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry. He wondered how it might end for Bull.

==========================================================================

The next morning at the War Table Leliana offered to send assassins after the Duke of Wycombe.  
  
“Are you mad!?” Cullen exclaimed. “What happens to clan Lavellan if they are tied to his murder?”  
  
“I don't see you proposing any solutions,” Leliana shot back.  
  
“Please,” Josephine looked over at Arames pleadingly. “Inquisitor, my diplomats can go where others cannot. We must get more information—“  
  
“But what of their safety in the meantime?” Cullen demanded.

As his advisers argued, Arames played with one of the markers they moved around the table to keep track of the various moving parts of the ever growing Inquisition. He spoke softly.  
  
“Cassandra has asked me to help locate the Seekers. Leliana, perhaps you could have your scouts look into that?”  
  
“Of course, Inquisitor.”  
  
“Cullen, I believe we have the necessary supplies to begin construction on the last tower at Skyhold. Would you oversee construction? The infirmary is nearly complete as well.”  
  
Cullen nodded.  
  
“Josephine, send someone you trust to Wycombe. Perhaps they will provide us with evidence of his treachery.”  
  
“At once.”  
  
Arames placed the markers in their respective locations. He smiled, satisfied with his decisions. Josephine piped up.  
  
“There is the other matter of the negotiations at the Winter Palace…”  
  
Arames shook his head.  
  
“Maybe tomorrow. I fear I do not have the capacity to discuss Orlesian politics now.”  
  
“That makes two of us,” Cullen muttered. He collected his stack of papers and walked out of the War Room with Arames, stopping him in the hallway. He waited for Josephine and Leliana to pass before speaking.  
  
"Inquisitor, if I may,” Cullen began.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
Cullen sighed.  
  
“If having your family so far away will distract from your duties…what I mean…Dorian has told me that your younger sister is a Mage. Some of the foremost instructors to survive the conclave are here. When the tower is complete…”  
  
“Are you suggesting I put my sister in a Circle Tower?”  
  
“No! Not like that. Maker’s breath. Dorian was right, I am terrible at this…what I am trying to say, Arames—Inquisitor—is there is no place safer for a young apostate and…perhaps I should not have spoken.”  
  
Arames studied Cullen's face. He was pale, and had a slight tremor in one hand. A sign of lyrium withdrawal. He fumbled with a stack of parchments in an effort to avoid Arames' gaze. Arames' voice went soft.  
  
“This was Dorian's idea, wasn't it?”  
  
Cullen looked up and nodded.  
  
“Not all of it, I will take some blame, or credit, depending on how you respond.”  
  
“I admit, it would be comforting to have them here. But is it selfish of me to take her away from our clan?”  
  
“That I cannot tell you.”  
  
“I'll consider it. And I appreciate the thought. You are a good friend, Commander.”  
  
Cullen grinned and continued down the hall. Creators that man was distracting.

===========================================================================

They were due to head to Crestwood in the next few days, but Hawke seemed in no particular rush. In fact, she spent a fair amount of time amongst the Chargers and Bull when not harassing Varric while he did paperwork in the main hall. 

Arames saw her lounging upside down in one of the large chairs near the fireplace. Her worn leather boots peaked out over the crest of the chairback, reminding Arames of the symbol outside Varric's favorite tavern back in Kirkwall. She was whistling some familiar tune he could not place, when she caught sight of him  
  
“I'm gonna ask him.”  
  
Varric slammed down his quill.  
  
“No, you, are NOT.”  
  
“I am,” she grinned wickedly and seemed to leap out of the chair without righting herself. She moves like a cat, Arames realized. “Inquisitor,” she slung an arm around his shoulder. He forgot how tall she was for a human because he was used to seeing her standing next to Iron Bull. “I have a question for you.”  
  
“No!” Varric groaned.  
  
Arames stopped walking and turned to face Hawke. It was something he had learned from Bull: ‘just ‘cause your smaller doesn't mean they’re in charge. Make 'em work for it.’  
  
“May I help you, Serah Hakwe?”  
  
“Maybe, yes? See that chair?” Hakwe pointed towards the throne at the end of the hall.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Can I sit on it? Not like, now, when there are people…but maybe…later? And not just me. I promise we'll clean up after ourselves.”  
  
“Umm,” Arames caught Varric’s eye.  
  
‘Sorry’ the dwarf mouthed.  
  
“You know what, sure. I hardly use it. You make sure no one knows what you're doing—especially me, and I don't care.”  
  
“Well, I'd say your welcome to join,” Hawke ran a finger across Arames’ jawline and caused an involuntary shiver down his back, “but I don't know if I'm you're type...though I can't imagine Bull would mind if you and Dorian joined. He said he's never done it with a mage before.”  
  
“I, umm…” Arames stammered.  
  
“Maferaph’s balls, Hawke,” Varric hissed. She offered him a toothy grin. She did have a beautiful smile, which faded as she finally noticed the crimson shade Of Arames’ ears.  
  
“Oh, I didn't realize that you never—“  
  
“I am not that young,” Arames grumbled. “Why do people assume I've never—“  
  
Hawke pinned him against the wall. He could feel her breasts pressed against his shoulder and her full lips were close to his ear. He squirmed a bit but could not budge. She was deceptively strong.  
  
“Hawke, leave the poor boy alone,” Varric’s fist hit the table, but she ignored him.  
  
“Dear Inquisitor,” she murmured into Arames’ ear. “You have no idea what you are doing, that much is obvious. I'd happily tutor you, you'd be surprised what I could show you. But remember, you play with Dorian, you play with fire. Some flames burn white hot and destroy everything around it. It's best to go in with your eyes open. I just might help you open yours a bit faster.”  
  
“Thanks, but I'm good.” She smelled of coffee and something else he couldn't quite place. After a moment he realized it was Bull.  
  
She released her hold and retreated a step. Arames rubbed his wrists. Her eyes brightened as she remembered something. "Oh, some Chantry sister was looking for you. A mother something…”  
  
“Giselle,” Varric added. “She's over there. She wanted to speak with you. Go talk to her before Hawke decides to wrestle you again.”  


Arames stumbled off and found Mother Giselle, who had managed to receive a letter from Dorian’s parents. She thought that he would better suited to deal with ‘the Tevinter.’  
  
“You want me to lie to Dorian?” Arames was shocked. Mother Giselle shook her head.  
  
“If it reunites this young man with his family, then some deception may be worth it.”  
  
“And if he leaves the Inquisition some people may breathe easier?” Arames scowled. They didn't know Dorian, how dare they. Even Sera liked Dorian.

Arames waited until Giselle left the main hall before bounding up the stairs two at a time. He burst through the library door and found a dozen eyes on him. A few curt “shh’s” and no one paid him any mind. They were used to watching the Inquisitor dart around Skyhold and frequent the library.  
  
“It is exhausting to watch you dart about the castle,” Dorian leaned back in his chair. The late afternoon light drifted in through the window and left Arames studying the hollow in Dorian's collar bone. He shook his head.  
  
“Dorian, I have a letter—“  
  
Dorian smiled up at Arames.  
  
“Oh, is it a dirty letter? A proposal from some randy dowager?”  
  
Arames hesitated, he looked down at the crumpled parchment in his hand.  
  
“Not exactly. It's from your father.”  
  
“Ah,” Dorian looked out the window, “and what, pray tell, does Magister Halward want?”  
  
“A meeting.”  
  
Dorian’s head snapped up. Anger, hurt, and longing playing across his face. He closed his book and was in front of Arames with a few long graceful strides. “Show me this letter.”  
  
Arames handed it over and waited for Dorian to finish reading his father's words.  
  
“I know my son?!” Dorian was incredulous. “What my father knows of me would fill a thimble! This is so typical. I'm willing to bet this 'retainer' is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter.”  
  
"That would be hard to do while I stood there."  
  
Dorian began to mutter and pace in front of Arames. “He expects me to travel with Mother Giselle, though Maker knows why he thinks I would.”  
  
“You don't have to go.”  
  
Dorian stopped short, considering Arames’ offer. He shook his head. “Let's go. I want to meet his so-called 'family retainer.' If it’s a trap we escape and kill everyone. You're good at that. If it's not, then we send the man back to my father with the message that he can stick his alarm in his wits end.”  
  
Arames took one of Dorian's hands in his.  
  
“I'm not letting anyone take you against your will.”  
  
Dorian looked down at their hands. He was quiet for a moment and then slipped his hand out from Arames’ grasp.  
  
“I wonder how much my father is paying this man to wait for me to show up.”  
  
“We can depart tomorrow morning.”  
  
Dorian nodded and walked off to pack. Arames could still feel the warmth of Dorian's fingers in his hands. Perhaps this woman in Tevinter he spoke of and wrote to, Maevaris, was his lover. It wasn't the first time Arames had made a fool of himself; mistaking kindness for romantic interest. He sighed and picked up the book Dorian had been reading: a History of the Dales. He didn't understand this man.

=========================

 

He went to the stables to brush his horse. Being around the gentle creatures, large as they were, gave him comfort. Blackwall was also the rare person who tolerated or even welcomed silence. Arames listened to the sound of his hammer and chisel working on a new carving. He made a mental note to see if he could find the man some Ironbark to work with. Arames brushed the black and white steed Harritt had given him. Hamin was a gentle soul, and had a special fondness for apples, which Arames was happy to supply. He had almost forgotten about Dorian when he noticed it was suddenly quiet in the stable. 

He peeked out from behind Hamin.  
  
"Blackwall?"  
  
"The Inquisitor is occupied," he heard Blackwall's irritation. "Unless it's some kind of emergency be off and bother him later."  
Arames heard a mumbled reply.  
  
"Hand it over and I'll make sure he sees it. Tell Lady Josephine she owes me a favor. I don't like to be bothered."  
  
The runner left the barn as if struck.  
  
"Do you want it?" Blackwall called over to Arames.  
  
"Not really," Arames continued to brush Hamin. "Just look it over and tell me if it's something I need to bother with before tomorrow."  
Arames hummed for a few moments before he heard Blackwall throw something and curse.  
  
"Maker's balls...Inquisitor, Arames...come here."  
  
Arames patted Hamin and walked towards the large fireplace at the center of the stable.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Sit down."  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"No, you're not. You just don't know it yet. Sit down here with me, lad."  
  
Arames sat down on a hay bale by the fire. Blackwall handed him the letter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the events and decisions regarding Wycombe and Clan Lavellan come together.

_A,  
Ada is dead. He fought bravely and succumbed to his wounds leaving an admirable trail of shems behind. I am sure he regrets what he said before you left. If it is any comfort he and I hardly reconciled before his end. But Izzy was with him, and I think it helped ease his passage. May Falon'Din guide him to Mamae's side. _

_But that is actually not why I'm writing._

_Izzy's nightmares are getting worse. She is convinced she can hear you in her dreams, and spends most of her time asleep in an effort to find you. She says the Dread Wolf chases you, and she fears for you. I do too, but I fear more for her. You at least know how to handle a weapon. Our little Halla does not. And Mitharien's brother shows early signs of magic as well. There is no way she will remain second with the Dread Wolf haunting her dreams. Deshana has told me as much.  
You control a shem army, and it does a good job. Send more of those invisible fighters to help me get Izzy to you. You said yourself the fortress was elven: Tarasyl'an Te'las. Perhaps it will keep Fen'Harel from catching our little Sulahn'nehn._

_If we are to book safe passage across the sea, then have a ship waiting for us. I will look for Andruil's messanger to know it is safe for us to board. Once we are in Amaranthine, I will allow an official escort of Inquisition troops to take us into the mountains._

_Ar lath ma, I would rejoice in seeing your face once again._

_Ishana_


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events up to, during, and after Dorian and Arames go to Redcliffe.

"My father is dead," Arames stared blankly at the fire.  
  
"I am sorry," Blackwall said. Nothing else. For nothing he said would be adequate.  
  
Arames did not know what he felt. Sorrow, somewhere deep inside, but it was buried in a ball of anger and resentment that he could not untangle. And then, joy, that his sisters would join him at Skyhold. He took a deep breath.  
  
"Can I ask you for a favor?"  
  
"Need you ask?"  
  
Arames smiled, weakly.  
  
"Would you join Cullen and meet my sisters on the coast? They should be here in a few weeks. They would trust a Grey Warden. Especially after...well, they would recognize the armor."  
  
"You're sending Cullen? I can't imagine they would trust Templars."  
  
Arames shook his head.  
  
"No, but I have only described a few members of the Inquisition. My sister knows there is a Commander, a Grey Warden, and a Qunari."  
  
"I suppose Iron Bull will be joining us as well."  
  
"Assuming he agrees to leave Hawke's bed for a few days."  
  
Blackwall chuckled. He placed a callused hand on Arames' shoulder.  
  
"I am sorry about your father. I think he'd be proud of you, for what it is worth. Maker knows I am."  
  
"Thank you," Arames stared at the fire for several minutes. Blackwall remained at his side, whittling a small piece of wood with a sharpened knife. Arames wiped his eyes and took a breath. "I suppose I will have to get runners to inform Cullen."  
  
"What about Bull?"  
  
"I believe I will find him at the Tavern this evening. I think I might have a drink or five."  
  
"Take care of yourself, Inquisitor. I will see you when you get back from Redcliffe." 

 

Unsure of what would meet them in Redcliffe, Arames and Dorian were accompanied by Sera and Cassandra. It took several days to travel south, even with the King’s Road restored and secured by Inquisition forces. Arames had not spoken to Dorian, other than when the Tevinter Altus offered his condolences. Dorian seemed to want to say more, but became more closed off and guarded the nearer they drew to the Seagull. 

When they finally drew close to the tavern it was dusk and eerily quiet. Sera and Cassandra waited outside as Dorian and Arames ascended the stairs.  
  
“Do you remember the last time we were here?” Arames asked.  
  
“It wasn't that long ago. But I do recall something about saving the world.”  
  
“I will support any decision you make, Dorian. Even if it means leaving me.”  
  
“Leaving you?”  
  
Arames knew what he was saying, and maybe Dorian would leave the Inquisition. But this was not about the Inquisition. This was about the fact that somehow Arames was falling for a Tevinter Shem, and he didn't care. Dorian looked like he was about to reach for Arames’ face but drew his hand back.  
  
“Thank you for coming,” Dorian said as he opened the door. 

The tavern was eerily quiet. Empty, in fact.  
  
“Uh-oh. Nobody's here. This doesn't bode well.” Dorian looked about. Arames kept a hand on the hilt of his blade.  
  
A well-dressed middle aged man came down the stairs. He stopped a few steps above them. “Dorian.”  
  
Dorian froze, his face contorted in horror.  
  
“Father,” he finally stammered. His face clouded with anger. "So what, the whole story about the 'family retainer' was just what? A smoke screen?"  
  
"Then you were told."  
  
“This is your father?” Arames marveled.  
  
“I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor, I never intended for you to be involved.”  
  
Arames could feel the rage radiating from Dorian's body.  
  
“Of course not, Magister Pavus couldn't come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor. What would people think? What is this exactly father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?”  
  
There was a venom in Dorian's voice that Arames had never heard. He felt the temperature drop around him.  
  
“Creators, what did he do, Dorian?” Arames whispered.  
  
“This is how it has always been.” Dorian's father gestured as if his son was a petulant child.  
  
“I imagine he has his reasons,” Arames replied. “But you went to all the trouble to get him here. Talk to him.”  
  
“Yes father. Talk to me. Let me hear how mystified you are by my anger."  
  
"Dorian, there is no need to—"  
  
Dorian straightened his shoulders. “I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.”  
  
All of a sudden everything came crashing down and Arames found it impossible to think. “The company of men…?” He mumbled.  
  
Dorian scowled and looked back at Arames. “Did I stutter? Men, and the company therof. As in sex, surely you've heard of it.”  
  
Halward Pavus sighed.  
  
“And that's a big concern in Tevinter, then?” Arames asked. He could feel the blood rush to his face and ears. If Dorian noticed he gave no indication. He began to pace the floor and grabbed a nearby bottle of wine as he spoke.  
  
“Only if you are trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying. Trying to distill the perfect mage. Perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means that every perceived flaw—any aberration—is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden.”  
  
“Must you be so crude, he has no knowledge of—“  
  
Arames scowled up at the proud old man. If Dorian would say it so would he. “I've more than heard of it, actually!” He retorted.  
  
Dorian feigned surprise. “No, the Herald of Andraste, I am shocked and scandalized!”  
  
"Such sarcasm."  
  
Dorian softened his tone. “You're not exactly subtle, oh lord Inquisitor.”  
  
Halward looked between his son and Arames. "I should have known that's what this was about.”  
  
Dorian rounded on his father, his finger pointing accusingly. “No! You don’t get to make those assumptions. You know nothing anything about the Inquisitor.”  
  
Halward scowled. "This was not what I wanted."  
  
"I'm never what you wanted, father. Or have you forgotten?  
  
"So that's what this is about?” Arames was incredulous. “Who you sleep with?"  
  
"Dorian please," his father begged. "If you will only listen to me?"  
  
"Why? So you can spout more convenient lies?  
  
He looked at Arames, his finger pointed at his father. “He taught me to hate blood magic. ‘The resort of the weak minded.’ Those are his words. But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to...change me."  
  
Dorian's voice finally broke and tears threatened to fall. Arames felt ill.  
  
"I only wanted what was best for you."  
  
"No, you wanted the best for you, for your fucking legacy! Anything for that." Dorian looked radiant despite the tears that fell down his cheeks. He braced himself against a table. Minutes passed before Arames walked over.  
  
"Don't leave it like this, Dorian. You'll never forgive yourself. Believe me...I know..."  
  
Dorian's eyes widened and he nodded. He turned back to his father.  
  
"Tell me why you came."  
  
"If I knew I'd drive you to the Inquisition..."  
  
"You didn't. I joined the Inquisition because it's the right thing to do. Once, I had a father who would have known that."  
Dorian walked away, Arames followed close behind. Halward called after them.  
  
"Once, I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed. I only wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice again. To ask him to forgive me."  
  
Arames nudged Dorian back into the room. Dorian took a few cautious steps forward. Arames left them in the tavern and joined Sera and Cassandra for supper. His head was spinning. He thought of the moments they had touched, brief but hesitant expressions of interest. If Dorian had known Arames was interested, had he not acted on his feelings because he had none? Arames thought of the lonely boy who longed for approval and affection by two parents who only cared about their own lives and how he reflected them. Arames had experienced love and friendship before. He sincerely wondered if Dorian truly had. Perhaps it was not disinterest but fear that kept Dorian an arm’s length away. 

In any case he had something new in his life: hope. 

========================================================================  
Two Ravens arrived that evening. One from Josephine's emissary that was, according to Josephine, coded to suggest Lavellan hunters should attack the castle. The other was from Leliana, reporting the presence of a small but fast ship spotted on the coast of the Free Marches bearing the mark of an owl. It might make land in Amaranthine within a fortnight provided its cargo arrives promptly. So far, everyone was still alive. 

They would go to Crestwood in the meantime and handle the rift in the lake. Dorian would need time to process what happened. He sent Ravens to Skyhold to have Varric, Solas, and Hawke meet him there within the next few days. If he did the math correctly he would be at Skyhold the day before his sisters arrived. And by then he could find a quiet moment with Dorian. They needed to talk. 

He was off by two days. Hawke was incredibly efficient for someone who drank as much as she did, and it only took them one very long night to sort out the underground rift and secure Caer Bronach. So they were back at Skyhold when Cullen sent word ahead they were a days ride from the castle. Stroud was eager to head to the Western Approach, but Hawke thought a day or two to rest and restock provisions wouldn't do any harm.  
  
“Neither would a night with Bull,” Arames had teased. Hawke laughed and threw an arm around his shoulder.  
  
“True. You are always welcome to join, Inquisitor, but I think your boyfriend would object. He doesn't seem like the type to share. Pity.”  
  
“My…what?” Arames froze.  
  
“Dorian. The pretty one. Why are Tevinters always pretty?”  
  
“He's not—“  
  
Hawke clucked her tongue and ruffled her fingers in his hair.  
  
"Creators, why does everyone do that?"  
  
“You two have been making moon eyes at each other since before I showed up. It reminds me of…” She looked wistful.  
  
“I read Varric's book. The Grey Warden apostate named Anders?”  
  
She took a deep breath and nodded.  
  
“Why did you? If—”  
  
“If I loved him?” She shrugged. “I think the man I loved disappeared before he destroyed the Chantry. Justice was there more often than not. And I had to choose. Sebastian was a good friend, despite what Varric says, but he had a dark side. When Elthina died…something broke in him. He would have punished Kirkwall. Innocent lives would've been lost. I couldn't. Fenris and I tried to make a go of it, but there was too much baggage. He was better off with Isabella. You will learn, sometimes you must set aside personal feelings and consider the fate of the people you're trying to protect. And if you're lucky you find someone as broken as you to make the days a little more bearable.”  
  
“You are remarkably sentimental.”  
  
“Always have been. So’s Varric. That's why we are such a good pair. Anyway, go kiss your boyfriend. No reason you two can't be happy.” 

Arames nodded. He would. But first, he clarified where his sisters would be staying at Skyhold with Josephine. Knowing the ambassador, Izzy would end up in some suite where she would get lost trying to find the commode. Despite her protestations Arames had them moved into the servant's rooms under his room.  
  
“They hardly ever have anything to do, Josie,” he laughed. “I take my meals in the tavern or with the troops, I am traveling for weeks at a time. If you'd like when the rooms on the other side are finished you can have someone stay there. But my sisters will want to be near me for at least a little while in the beginning.”  
  
“Of course, I understand. Might I at least exchange the furniture?”  
  
“Nothing too Orlesian. Or Izzy may move into the stable with Blackwall.”  
  
Josephine made a irritated whistling sound through her nose. Arames opted to leave her alone to make preparations. 

 

===============================

Arames practically flew up the stairs to the library. He found Dorian standing by an open window. It was unclear whether or not he had been crying.  
  
“He says we're alike. Too much pride. Once, I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now I'm not certain. I don't know if I can forgive him.” 

Arames stood across from Dorian. The cold mountain air felt refreshing. 

"He tried to change you?"  
  
"Out of desperation. I wouldn't put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away. Selfish, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside."  
  
The similarity surprised Arames. He reached out and placed an arm on Dorian's shoulder. Dorian turned, still talking.  
  
"He was going to do a blood ritual! Alter my mind. Make me...acceptable. I found out. I left."  
  
“Can blood magic actually do that?”  
  
“Maybe. It could have also left me a drooling vegetable. It crushed me to think he found that absurd risk preferable to scandal. Part of me has always hoped he didn't really want to go through with it. If he had...I can't imagine the person I would be now. I wouldn't like that Dorian."  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"No, not really." Dorian squeezed Arames' shoulder gently. "Thank you for bringing me out there. It wasn't what I expected but it's...something. Maker knows what you must think of me, after that whole display.”  
  
“I don't think less of you. More if possible.”  
  
"The things you say," Dorian whispered. Arames smiled up at him.  
  
"I mean it." 

For a moment they stood, and Arames could feel the electricity in the air between them. Dorian took a deep breath and smiled. 

“At any rate, time to drink myself into a stupor. It's been that sort of day. Join me sometime, if you've a mind.” 

Arames did come by the Tavern after his meeting with Josephine and Leliana. The negotiations at the Winter Palace were fast approaching, and there was his trip to the Western Approach with Hawke and Stroud. And the news from Emprise Du Lion was disturbing. A drink would clear his mind. 

Dorian was sitting at a large table that Arames was convinced he had seen in the main hall that morning. Hawke and the Chargers sat with Sera and Varric. Bottles and food and cards littered the table. 

“Inquisitor!” Hawke shouted. A few weeks ago he would have thought her drunk, but he knew her well enough know to tell that she was sober. It simply made everyone more comfortable if she acted the part of the drunk. She had more in common with Bull than Arames had realized.  
  
Dorian looked up and smiled up at Arames.  
  
“Alright there, Dorian?”  
  
Dorian nodded. And hiccuped.  
  
“Sparkles, you have been drinking since lunch.”  
  
“You forget, Varric, I am well practiced in the art of being a drunkard.” 

Arames changed his mind. He didn't want to drink. He wanted Dorian. Alone. 

“Perhaps you could join me for a walk, Dorian? The air would do you some good.” 

Hawke practically threw Dorian over the table and he stumbled into Arames' arms. He scowled back at her. She cackled, clearly delighted with herself, and waved them off. Arames took Dorian's hand and led him up the stairs of the tavern and outside onto the battlements. The sun had just set and the stars were beginning to shine overhead.  
  
"Venhedis, it is cold."  
  
"The air should sober you up some." 

Dorian was less careful when they were alone. They stood close to one another as they walked along. Arames ran his hand along the rough stone wall. He took a breath. 

“Our situations were not so different, yours and mine. Granted, I am not a noble who was destined for the Magisterium, but to be the First in a Clan is a great honor. There were some years where Deshana was the only mage and we had contacted other clans before my magic manifested when I was ten or so. Then a year later Mithareon's magic began to show. Even with the careful breeding, as you call it, in Tevinter, surely there are families with children who are not mages."  
  
Dorian nodded.  
  
"Well, when Mithareon became Deshana's second we were promised to one another. It would not be until we were older...but that was our destiny. Mithareon was a nice enough girl. She didn't seem to have a problem with the arrangement."  
  
"I'd imagine not," Dorian chuckled, "you are a rather marvelous specimen." 

Arames blushed and coughed. 

"I was seventeen when my father caught me with one of the other hunters...it is not unheard of or shameful amongst the Dalish, but...the rules were different for me...I was expected to become the Keeper and have children with Mithareon...even though I didn't want it. I told him as much, before I left...My father threatened to turn me in to the next group of Templars and tell them I was a malificarum if I didn't fall in line…knowing they would make me Tranquil almost immediately. I still don't know if it was an idle threat. I don't suppose I'll ever find out…” 

Dorian took Arames' hands in his. 

"My father never understood. Living a lie...it festers inside of you, like poison. You have to fight for what's in your heart."  
  
"I agree." Arames threaded his fingers through Dorian's, pulling him close. He could smell the wine on Dorian's breath and the pleasant musk of his cologne. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Dorian's. Dorian responded in kind, his hands wrapping around Arames' waist and pressing their hips together. They kissed and kissed and kissed. Finally, Dorian pulled away, a smile on his face. 

"I see you enjoy playing with fire, Inquisitor." 

Arames grabbed Dorian's hand and they continued their walk. He leaned his head against Dorian's bare shoulder. 

"For some silly reason, I'm not afraid of getting burned."


	9. Chapter 9

Arames was up, dressed and ate breakfast soon after dawn. Varric was already buried in papers by the fireplace. Arames sat down at one of the large chairs and looked through his own stack of parchments. He found Varric's presence comforting. Like Bull, Varric never pressed to fill silences. Rather, he chose to see how others filled the empty space. Always controlling the story. 

“You're not usually up this early,” Arames made notes in the margin of Leliana's report. 

“Hawke is still sleeping. For a little while longer at least.” 

Arames chuckled. Cullen’s goal was likely to be at Skyhold in time to go through the morning training with the recruits. That meant Bull would be back, and Hawke would certainly be there to greet him. Sure enough a few minutes she sauntered into the main hall and draped herself over Arames’ lap. She smelled of jasmine and her shirt was dangerously low cut. 

“Oh not you too,” she pouted. “Always with the paperwork. So dull.” 

“I hate to disappoint,” Arames replied. He did not mind her teasing. She had provided him the nudge he needed with Dorian. Then he heard the bells above the gate sound. Troops returning. Hawke's face lit up and she was out the door and down the stairs in a flash. 

“Huh,” Varric muttered as he picked up parchments displaced by her sudden departure. 

“What?” 

“She really likes him.” 

“Seems to.” 

Varric frowned. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“You think he feels the same?” 

“Feeling protective are we?” 

“She's been through enough.” 

“I think so. Best to ask Bull.” 

“Maybe later. Go—“ Varric waved him off. “I'll make sure Ruffles gets these. Go see your sisters.” 

Arames grinned and bounded through the Solarium and descended the scaffolding. There were five horses but only four had riders. Cullen was in front, engrossed in conversation with Arames’ sister Ishana. Blackwall led the unburdened horse. He also seemed to be holding something in his arms but Arames could not make it out. 

Bull was in the rear. How Dennet had found a steed that could carry the massive Qunari was anyone's guess. But atop the one eyed mercenary sat a small elven girl. 

“Oh, Izzy.” Arames muttered. Hawke was utterly delighted with the sight of the small blonde girl gleefully riding the Iron Bull’s shoulders. She was waving at everyone as if it was a parade in her honor. The few troops and servants running about stopped to marvel and wave back. 

“Oh can I keep her?” Hawke squealed. “She's absolutely precious.” 

Arames felt his heart leap into his throat as he watched his sister's face as she recognized him in the small crowd. She said something to Iron Bull and pointed at Arames. Bull nodded and, with one large hand, lifted her of his shoulders and lowered her to the ground. She dropped and ran. Arames held his arms open and she flew into his embrace. Tears streamed down his face as he felt her small frame collide with his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, peppering him with kisses. He held her tight. He was never letting her go again. 

She finally released her grip and turned to her sister. Ishana allowed Cullen to help her dismount and blushed slightly as he kissed her hand before taking the horses back to the stable. 

“Izzy…did Cullen just—“ 

“Oh, the Commander? He and Ishana like each other.” 

“Izzy,” Ishana hissed, “he’s just being polite.” She fixed her brother with a warm smile and hugged him. “Creators, I have missed you.” 

“Same,” he replied. 

Blackwall lumbered over, a small back slung around his shoulder. 

“My lady,” he bowed to Izzy. She giggled and squealed as he handed her a baby Halla. It bleated and nuzzled into her neck. 

Arames could not hide the bewilderment on his face. Ishana shook her head. 

“I will explain. Later.” 

“Ser Warden?” Izzy tugged at his sleeve. “Will you show me the stable? He will need to eat and I must find him a proper bed.” 

“Of course, my lady.” 

Blackwall led the small girl towards the stable. A bleeting Halla in her arms. Bull had already thrown Hawke over his shoulder and was making his way to the tavern. Hawke's full throated laughter echoed across the courtyard. 

Ishana leaned against her brother’s shoulder. “What is this world we live in? With holes in the sky and demons roaming the earth and Fen'Harel haunting our sister's dreams?” 

“I don't know. But you are both safe now.” 

“In the past few days I have met a Grey Warden, a Qunari, a Templar—“ 

“Former Templar. Cullen no longer takes lyrium,” Arames corrected her. He studied her face carefully. She smiled at his words for a moment, and then frowned. Armes continued talking. “It is overwhelming, I know. But you will like Varric—“ 

“The writer from the Marches who named his crossbow after a woman?” 

Arames nodded. 

“And Sera’s heart is in the right place. And Dorian,” Arames could not help but smile at the name. 

“The Tevinter prince?” Ishana raised an eyebrow and focused her dark green eyes on her twin. 

“He's not a prince,” Arames responded, somewhat defensive. 

Ishana laughed, softly. 

“So soon?” 

“I don't know. He's different. I know he's a Shem—“ 

Ishana nudged her brother. “I’m not Ada or Keeper Deshana. If he makes you happy…” Her voice trailed off as she watched Cullen walk past. Arames knew better than to say anything. She shook her head. 

“He is very distracting,” Arames murmured. 

She glared at him for a moment and then laughed. 

“He is, isn't he? This Dorian must be very handsome.” 

“He is.” Arames walked his sister toward the main hall. Solas would have questions about Izzy. “But truth be told, Ishana, I've never seen him distracted before today.” 

Her ears turned pink and she mumbled a quiet prayer to Sylaise. She then explained how their sister had kidnapped the baby Halla from their clan after the fighting in Wycombe had left him an orphan, just like her. 

 

=====================================================================================

Ishana fit in better than Arames had hoped. Leliana's familiarity with Dalish customs, likely stemming from her time with the Hero of Ferelden, put her at ease. Ishana got along surprising well with Vivienne and Cassandra, as well as Bull. Solas seemed particularly charmed by her. They walked in the garden and she listened to some of his stories of the Fade. Arames even noticed her sitting on Solas’ desk watching him paint. And then, other days she would watch the recruits train and sit in the gazebo with Cullen, who happily taught her to play chess. Arames had even walked into Cullen's office and found her holding a tray laden with food and tea. Vivienne's suggestion, no doubt. Arames grabbed the reports off of Cullen's desk and excused himself before either could stammer out an explanation. 

Ysabelle—Izzy—frequented the stable when not in the newly constructed Circle tower. There were other children her age and for the first time in her life, she was not the odd one. In fact, she had charmed most who met her. Blackwall and Iron Bull most of all. Dennet was thrilled to care for a Halla, and showed Izzy the proper way to brush its coat and care for its delicate hooves. Blackwall provided her with an ever growing collection of carved wooden figures, which he promised would protect her from her dreams. Bull happily carried her around on his shoulders, and she had learned a fair number of commands from Cullen, which she shouted out to the recruits while they trained. She and Sera would raid the larder for sweets, while Cole would sit with her in the infirmary, as she practiced minor healing spells and told stories to the injured soldiers. She was obedient to Vivienne's lessons, and would beg Varric for stories. She had even managed to get Leliana to teach her a few songs, and her soft voice often filled the halls with welcome melodies. 

And Arames gained peace of mind, knowing his sisters were safe within the walls of Skyhold as he traveled west.


	10. Chapter 10

Their return from the Western Approach was delayed due to the heavy snow in Emprise du Lion and across the Dirth. They rode hard through the day and arrived well after nightfall, only a week before the Ball at Halamshiral. 

Izzy was there to greet them. She had never been one to tolerate much cold, but she braved the frigid temperatures to make sure they felt welcome. She embraced her brother and was promptly swept up and tossed into the air by Bull. Her little Halla—whom she had named Atish'an—bleeted and hopped around as well until he fell into a snowbank. Blackwall pulled the small fellow out and handed him back to Izzy. 

"It is past your bedtime, child." He scolded, his voice soft and kind. 

“Atish’an wanted to make sure he said good night to you.” 

“Well, I will make sure this little peacemaker gets to sleep.” Blackwall took Atish’an and carried him into the stable. Slowly the others departed, leaving Arames with Dorian and Izzy. 

“Shall we escort you to your room?” Dorian asked. Izzy nodded and yawned. There were moments where Arames could still see the small child. But she would be a woman soon. And then what? Arames turned to take the shortcut through the solarium, knowing it would be deserted. Izzy froze and shook her head. 

“Not that way. Through the kitchen, please.” 

“Izzy, I'm tired and it is faster—“ 

“No!” The fear in her voice caused them both to stop short. “Please, Arames. The Dread Wolf…” 

“Izzy, those are just pictures, Solas—“ 

“He searches,” she whispered, her eyes wide as saucers. “Arames he walks through the Fade as he dreams and he searches…he is sad and hungry for something. And he tries to pull Ishana into the Fade. He takes her for walks and tells her stories of the ages of El’garnan. But, Arames…” 

Dorian knelt down and fixed Izzy with a curious stare. He took her small hands in his. “Ysabelle,” Dorian whispered. “The Fade is a confusing place, even when we dream. It could be Solas, you see. Or spirits or—“ 

“What eats wolves, Dorian? Do Bears? Do you think Blackwall will make me a bear that will eat the Dread wolf? He can make one for you, too.” 

“I am not afraid of the Dread Wolf, nor is your brother.” 

“You should be…” She whispered. 

“Well, we are not going to solve this tonight. Izzy, we go through the kitchens just this once. But you must learn to control your fear. I will speak with Ishana tomorrow.” 

She nodded, defeated, and they quietly padded through the empty rooms. “It's just, when he speaks of Arlathan…Arames, sometimes he gets the tenses wrong. He speaks with a familiarity that makes me scared.” 

“No argument from over here,” Dorian whispered. 

“Just listen when he speaks, how does he just know things, Arames? It is not so easy to just see things when you sleep. No matter what he tells you. I do not like him with Ishana.” 

“Isn't the danger part of the appeal?” Dorian asked, looking over to Arames. 

Ysabelle shook her head. 

“You aren't dangerous, Dorian. You just keep your heart locked away because you believe it is safer for everyone if you do.” 

“I—“ Dorian stopped in the hallway. Ysabelle turned and looked up at him. 

“Don't pretend you do otherwise. It's not fair to my brother.” 

“Izzy,” Arames went to grab Dorian's hand. But Dorian backed away, tears welling in his eyes. “Dorian,” Arames reached out, pleading in his voice. 

“I'm sorry. Good night, Inquisitor.” And he ran up the stairs to the library. 

Arames spun around and glared at his sister. She had a serene look on her face. 

“Go apologize to Dorian.” Arames ordered. She shook her head. 

“No. He needs to stop playing with you. And you need to tell Ishana that if she tries to pet a wolf she’ll get bit.” 

And with that she marched up the stairs to her bedroom. Arames was left alone in the main hall. He could not sleep. Not now. He went to the rookery to see if Leliana was awake and listening. She was. 

==========================================================================================

For all his flashiness, Dorian was very capable of becoming near impossible to find. Additionally, with Halamshiral around the corner, Arames was allowed little time to search Skyhold. 

Ishana, on the other hand, seemed to have moved into the Solarium. Never one to bother with spirits or magic, she would listen to Solas discuss these topics endlessly. Arames, desperate to see Dorian, would hover in the library or rookery and be subjected to overhearing his sister's flirtations. If she was capable of suddenly casting magic spells she would. It was as if she had become a new person. 

The night before they were due to depart to the Winter Palace she did not even bother to come to the Tavern. Cullen sat amongst some of the new recruits, nursing an ale and glancing up at the door. After two hours he departed, his shoulders slumped. Had she promised the Commander she would be there? Or had he simply been optimistic that she would join them the night before they left? Much like Arames had hoped. 

“Such grim faces,” Hawke noted. At first she had delighted in teasing Cullen about Ishana, but with Solas in the picture it proved too cruel. She sat in Bull’s lap, her long legs draped over the side of his chair. Bull played with her hair absentmindedly. 

“I think disappointed would be more accurate,” Arames sighed. He had finally accepted a glass of something that would likely make him quite drunk, but he did not care. “Varric, you write romance serials, do you see this ending well?” 

Varric studied his cards. It had been a while since they had played Diamondback and he was rusty. 

“You mean you and Sparkles? Chuckles and your sister? Or Hawke and Bull?” 

“What about Ishana and Cullen?” Hawke asked. 

Varric shook his head. “See, now THAT would be the ending Cassandra would love. That might be the happy ending. Maker knows Cullen deserves it after all the shit he's seen.” 

“But,” Bull prompted. 

“But,” Varric sighed and threw his cards on the table. “She's not looking for a happy ending. You are.” Varric pointed at Arames, “even though I told you it's not going to happen. Not with Dorian, I mean—“ 

“I know what you mean,” Arames took a large gulp of his whiskey. It burned but he managed not to cough. 

“Maybe she'll change her mind, I don't know. Hawke I've given up on, but you two make more sense to me for some reason.” 

Hawke looked up at Bull and smiled. He kissed her. 

“They both like killing dragons,” Arames noted. 

“They're also this far from crazy,” Varric added, his thumb and index finger an inch apart. “To be honest I don't know what keeps Hawke from falling apart.” 

“You do, Varric, so don't go and die on me.” Hawke was suddenly serious. She grabbed the dwarf’s hand from across the table. “Please, be careful?” 

“Maferaph's balls, you are telling me to be careful?” 

“He has a point,” Bull wrapped his arms around her torso, “I can keep Varric alive for you, but who's gonna watch your back?”   
“I got Stroud,” she leaned into Bull, “and I usually keep my back against a wall so no one can touch it. Or spank it. Unless I want them to.” 

Arames finished his drink. Dorian did not come to the tavern. Arames would have to wait for the ball at Halamshiral, when Dorian could not avoid him. 

He went through the side entrance into Skyhold, a luxury afforded only because he was an elf and still passed unseen by the human nobility. This also meant that he passed by his sisters’ rooms on the way to his own. In the back of his head he must have realized what he was doing when he climbed the stairs and collided, head on, with his twin. 

"Creators Ishana!" 

"Arames!" She squeaked. He sometimes forgot how similar they were. She had the same chestnut brown hair, thin nose and full mouth that left her looking as though she was always pouting slightly. She, too, had freckles that adorned her face, in addition to her vallaslin. Unlike Arames, who had barely committed to the faint markings around his eyes, Ishana proudly wore the markings honoring Andruil, goddess of the hunt. As children the only way anyone could tell them apart was by looking at their eyes. Both green, Ishana's were as dark as his were light. A deep emerald as dark as a stormy sea, and just as dangerous. 

"Where were you?" He demanded. 

"Have you been drinking?" 

"And if I have?" He scowled. "I go to Halamshiral of all places. I would imagine you would see me before I left." 

"You haven't left yet." 

"You won't be at the stable tomorrow. And if you are, it won't be to see me." 

Ishana's eyes narrowed. 

"Is that what this is about?" 

"He waited for you. Two whole hours staring at the door. As if he could make you appear by sheer force of will.” 

She looked confused for a moment and then guilt swept across her face. 

"Oh, Creators. Cullen." 

"Did you tell him you'd be there, Ishana?" Arames rounded on her, his finger jabbing her in the shoulder. She backed up against the wall. 

"I—I, no. I just said I would try..." She stammered. 

"How can you give him hope? When you spend all your time with Solas? Since when have you been interested in our history? Or magic? Or the Fade? Who are you?" 

"Who am I?" She shoved him. "I am not the one mooning over a slave-owning Tevinter. After what they have done to our people—" 

"You don't even know!" Arames howled. "You pick and chose the stories you want to hear and follow. Should we try to fix the Civil War in Orlais, or let it fall to chaos because of what they did to our people? It was the Orlesian Chantry who slaughtered our people in the Dirth, not Tevinter. It was Divine Renata who struck out the Canticle of Shartan and any mention of our people from the Chant of Light...so do not pretend this is about Dorian being from Tevinter. You have changed, Shana. You are changing. For him." 

"That is not true!" 

"It is. Where is the girl who stole our father's own bow at six to catch a boar? Who can hit a mark with her dagger from twenty feet away? Books and magic and history have never interested you. You are forgetting yourself. You are forgetting me. You are forgetting Izzy. That is not like you. Solas is a friend, but he is dangerous. I have seen him angered, Shana. It is not of this world. And Izzy has told you about—" 

"She does not know what she is talking about, she is just a child." 

"You were not much older when you went on your first hunt, Ishana." 

Ishana bit her lip and glared at him. He would get nowhere with her tonight. 

"I love you, Shana. I want to see you happy. If I return from Halamshiral—" 

"If?!" Her face was stricken. "Why wouldn't you?" 

"With my luck I will pick up the wrong spoon and be shot on sight. Or poisoned..." He leaned against the stone walls. "I do not want to repeat my mistake with Ada. Please know that this is not because I claim to control who you give your heart to. But I know you...and..." 

"You claim to know what will make me happier than I do? At least I didn't run away from my duties. I kept Izzy safe when the Shems attacked. I woke her up from her nightmares. I watched our father fall in battle. You had left us. Don't pretend you know better.” 

Her words cut like a blade. She was more like their father than he realized. He could see hints of guilt on her face, but she was stubborn and simply glared at him, daring him to challenge her. He felt very tired. 

"No, Shana. Just know I will be there for you when he breaks your heart. Don't come tomorrow. Cullen might not survive seeing you with Solas." He turned and ran up the stairs and slammed the door behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

Halamshiral. An extravagant castle for the Emperors of Orlais to spend their winters. Built upon the bones of his ancestors. A part of him wondered what his life would have been like if there had been no Exalted March and the Dales still belonged to elves. He said as much aloud to Bull, Sera, and Varric. 

“Would it have been so different? There'd still be rich nobs punching down. People are people. Arseholes abound.”

“It would definitely be less…Orlesian,” Varric muttered. 

“So, fewer lions statues, more wolf statues?” Bull offered.

“There are an awfully large number of Fen'Harel statues across the Dales, aren't there?” Arames asked. “Makes you wonder what stories we don't know.”

They stood in the garden. Gaspard had already made a show of greeting Arames and the noble's stares were annoying. 

“Where is Dorian?” Arames tapped his foot impatiently.

“Avoiding you, Boss. Look, let's just go inside and get this over with. Blackwall already escorted Josephine in and poor Cullen is being chased around by a gaggle of adoring fans.”

“I forgot to pack my bees.” Sera pouted.

“That's probably for the best,” Arames replied. “‘Cause I'd be tempted to use them. You go ahead. I'll wait a few more minutes.”

“You sure, Boss?” 

Arames nodded. It had been weeks and he just needed a moment alone. He wouldn't give Dorian the satisfaction of sneaking in. So he skulked about by the fountain when he finally saw Dorian slip in through the gate. 

Arames had started towards the gate when a gloved hand grabbed at his arm.

“You! Rabbit! Have you seen a ring?”

Arames froze. At Skyhold the nobility behaved, fearing Josephine's wrath should they offend the Inquisitor or his family. But he was not at Skyhold. Here at the Winter Palace he was just another knife ear.

“I…what?”

“A ring!” Irritation as heavy as her Orlesian accent. “It is very important. I am very important. I cannot be seen without it.”  
“Then you shouldn't have lost it,” Arames muttered. 

“The Inquisitor found this by the fountain,” Dorian swept in. “Might this be it?”

“Oh yes! Thank you so much! Are you the Inquisitor?” She looked between Arames and Dorian. Dorian grabbed Arames by the elbow and half pulled, half escorted him up the stairs before Arames could respond.

“Did she say what I think she did?” He hissed. 

“Do you mean did she call me rabbit? Yes. I'll likely hear worse. Thank you, by the way. For finding the ring.” 

“Yes, yes,” Dorian looked about. “Are they glaring at you or me?”

“An elf or a Tevinter noble. Which is worse?” Arames smiled. He linked arms with Dorian as they entered the Vestibule and accepted a glass of champagne from a well-dressed servant. Perhaps this evening would not be a total loss.  
Josephine ran up to them. Dorian took the opportunity to untangle their arms and flee into the party. 

“It's going to take me all night to find him.” Arames whined to Josephine.

“Dorian Pavus could cause a scene standing alone in an empty room. He will not be hard to find.” She muttered, and dragged Arames into the ballroom to be presented to Celene.

======================

The endless drills Josephine had insisted upon did prove useful, as Arames spoke with various members of the Council without completely humiliating himself. The servants seemed relieved he was actually Dalish and told him about their missing friends and family.

“Don't go down there, Inquisitor, no one who's gone down has come back,” one man urged Arames. He had a plate of canapés balanced in his shoulder and reminded Arames of his father. Arames simply squeezed the man's unencumbered shoulder and wandered to the garden. And there was Dorian.

He was leaning against a statue, glaring ahead, a glass of wine in one hand. The music drifted around them and Arames realized that this evening could be romantic, for some. Maybe even for them. 

“All right, Dorian?” Arames asked. Dorian started.

“This is just all so familiar. I half expect my mother to materialize from the crowd to criticize my manners.”

“What if your mother were here? Where would we be then?”

"Short one mage, after he's dragged out by his earlobe.”

"I'm having difficulty picturing that."

“Picture me a young boy of five years, she certainly always has.”

Arames thought of Izzy, and his difficulty realizing that she was teetering upon adolescence. He leaned against the cool marble.

“Thank you for coming, I know this is not easy.”

Dorian smiled. “Some people are talking to me. Now that we've spoken I would imagine I might get some attention."  
“Don't wear yourself out mingling. I expect a dance before this is over.” 

Dorian's eyes widened. “Dancing with the evil Magister, in full view of every noble in Orlais? How shocking.”

Arames knew Dorian well enough to hear the genuine wonder underneath the sarcasm. He took a step forward and placed a hand on Dorian's waist.

“They'll live.”

They stood and looked at one another for several moments. Then Dorian took a step back and put his goblet to his lips.  
“You say that now. If you can find me ten silk scarves I know a dance that will really shock them.”

Arames chuckled. He looked up and noticed an open door in the upper level.

“Dorian, I need to get up there, do you think you could provide a distraction as I climb the lattice?”

Dorian brushed Arames’ cheek with his gloved hand. “Let me get Vivienne. And then, as they say, your wish is my command, Inquisitor.”

Arames felt his ears grow hot and slinked to the back of the garden.

It was unclear who was more upset as they stumbled through the servant's quarters. The bodies strewn about the kitchen, some still in their beds, the smell of blood wafted through the air and made Arames nauseus. Sera was livid and could only sputter out expletives, Varric simply looked sad, Bull and Cassandra were filled with righteous outrage, while Arames felt numb. When they finally made their way back into the party Dorian grabbed Arames and pulled him into an alcove.

"Your sense of timing might need some improvement," Arames whispered. Dorian glared at him.

"My timing is always impeccable. You have..." Dorian grabbed his handkerchief and wiped some smeared blood from Arames' cheek. "There. Better. You cannot be expected to dance with the Grand Duchess covered in blood."

"What would I do without you, Dorian?"

"I shudder to think." 

Arames leaned in for a kiss but a quiet cough from Bull interrupted them. 

"Empress at your seven, Boss."

Arames sighed. 

"His sense of timing needs work." Dorian glared over at Iron Bull, who offered a toothy grin.

Arames took a deep breath. "Let's get this over with."

==================  
Somehow. 

Somehow Arames avoided getting anyone else killed. He kept his temper in check and publicly exposed the Duchess. Despite Sera's protests he reconciled Briala with Celene, in the hopes that seeing an Elven woman with power would be a step in the right direction. Gaspard was, as Leliana consoled him, a victim of "The Game."

The revelry felt hollow, as they stood upon the bodies of the slain servants. Bones upon bones upon bones. He passed by Cullen as he searched for fresh air.

"Are you married, Commander?" One persistent Orlesian man inquired. 

"I—no, not yet, but I am already taken —"

"Still single then?"

"I—no—well...you see—"

Arames ran for a balcony. Creators, what had Ishana said to him? What had she promised? Solas seemed perfectly at ease with the nobility. He always acted as if he owned the place. It irritated Arames. Where had Solas lived, that he could simply not care? He acted more entitled than Duke Cyril and Dorian combined and it baffled Arames. Solas would have replied with something along the lines of 'in the Fade...' But it was sounding increasingly hollow as time wore on. You don't learn how to behave as a noble by taking long walks. 

Arames stood alone on the balcony for several minutes, trying to get a sense of his emotions. The music drifted through the cold air. He heard a gentle cough behind him and turned to see Dorian approaching. 

“A dowager was looking for you. Said she has twelve daughters. I told her you had left,” Dorian leaned against the railing. “You can thank me later. How are you fairing?”

“Well, for once things went according to plan. But at what cost? No one sees the blood spilled today for The Game.”

“What you need is a distraction. I have just the thing: let's dance,” Dorian held out a hand. Arames felt his heart flutter.

“I was hoping you would ask,” he slid into Dorian's arms.

“Well, thank goodness one of us has a little initiative.” Dorian held Arames in his arms and moved in time with the music.  
Arames rested his head against Dorian's shoulder. He hummed, quietly, along with the music. And for once Dorian held him. He did not try to pull away or avoid being seen in contact with another man. 

"This is exactly what I needed," Arames murmured.

"A distraction?"

"You."

There was a sharp intake of breath, but Dorian said nothing. He kept time with the music and Arames followed his lead.

=====================================================================

After Halamshiral, Arames spent the next three months traveling. First to Val Royeaux, then Emprise du Lion, then out to the Hissing Wastes. Arames claimed it was to stomp out the Venatori activity out West and allow Cullen time to prepare troops to march on Adamant Fortress, but they all knew it was to keep Solas from his sister. Though his efforts were not entirely effective considering they likely met in the Fade. In fact, Arames noticed Solas would retire to his tent soon after supper and would rise later in the morning as the weeks progressed. But Arames knew his sisters well, and Izzy would always meddle. Unless Ishana was not talking to Izzy, too. Izzy’s letters seemed to indicate as much. Every night Arames would sit by the campfire, reading and writing letters back to Skyhold late into the evening. Sometimes he would fall asleep only to awake in his tent with Bull snoring next to him. 

In the desert when the moon was full it was easier to read Josephine's handwriting. How someone could fit so much on a single piece of parchment still baffled Arames. 

"Venhedis, you will ruin your eyes trying to read in the dark like that."

Arames looked up at Dorian. 

"I'm Elven. I see perfectly well in low light. Are you cold?"

Dorian wore a fur-lined hooded cloak Arames had given him in Emprise. Over that he had wrapped himself in the same woolen blanket he dragged through the Fallow Mire. 

"Fasta vass, you'd think the desert would be warmer."

"We are nearing Wintersend but it is not yet spring, Dorian. Even in the desert. Come. Sit."

Dorian huffed and sat down on the sand. Arames pulled the cloak around them and snuggled next to the shivering man.  
  
"Creators, how are you always so cold?"

Dorian smiled and wrapped an arm around Arames' waist. "I'm warming up."

Arames kissed Dorian's neck and inhaled his scent. They had done little more than that. Save one night in Val Royeaux when they had both gotten a bit drunk and fooled around only to be interrupted by half of the Chargers when they came barreling through searching for Bull. That had been weeks ago. 

"Promise me you'll take me somewhere nice this spring."

"Would you settle for a party at Skyhold? Josephine wants to have a Wintersend ball." Arames frowned at the parchment. "At least, I think that is what she is proposing here. Either that or I have been promised to a Dowager for half of the Ylenn Basin."

He expected a laugh but heard nothing. He looked over at Dorian.

"That's not funny." 

"Creators, Dorian, it was just a joke. No stuffy Orlesian will want to marry me."

"Marriages are political arrangements, do not think that someone will attempt to seduce you to capitalize on the Inquisition's power."

“Don't be ridiculous. I have nothing to offer.”

“That's not true and you know it, Arames. You could be seen as quite the trophy to the ambitious.”

“Trophy? I am not some prize to be handed off to the highest bidder.”

“I'm just saying matters aren't as simple as you make them out to be.” Dorian huffed and glared at the campfire.

Arames sighed. He did not want to argue. He kissed Dorian's cheek and stood up. 

"I am going to sleep. Tomorrow we head back to Skyhold. I promise you no one will marry me before we get there. I fully intend on celebrating Wintersend with you, Dorian. No one else."

Dorian made a small noise and continued to glare into the fire. Arames crawled into his bedroll, hoping that the amulet from Ponchard arrived as the merchant had promised. Maybe then, Dorian would relax for more than a second when they were together. He had only mentioned the locket in passing while in Val Royeaux and Arames had Leliana look into it.

"Trouble in paradise?" Bull asked. He folded a letter, likely from Hawke, and dimmed his lantern.

Arames shook his head. He wondered if he should start growing his hair out again. Bull had helped shave the sides and trim the top. Krem liked his cut the same way. 

"Bull, are gifts common for Wintersend."

"Boss, you are asking the wrong guy."

"Is that a yes?"

Bull blew out his lantern, enveloping them in the dark. 

"I think so. Shit. Hawke'll still be around."

Arames sniggered. So it wasn't just him. He rolled over and put his head on Bull's shoulder. Bull wrapped his arm around Arames' waist. "Need to stop by Val Royeaux on the way back to Skyhold?"

"Nah, Boss. I'm good. Got something Harritt's been working on. Your sister helped, actually."

"Ishana?"

"Uh, no."

"You let Izzy help you pick a gift out for Hawke?"

Bull shrugged. 

"It was her or Krem and Skinner, and, frankly, I think Izzy might be better suited to pick that stuff out."

"Bull?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"What is Dorian waiting for?"

"Dunno. Look, what happens between two men is clearly a bigger issue in Tevinter than it is in Par Vollen or here in the South. My guess is that if he didn't care, he'd have jumped in. So, take it as a sign he has real feelings."

Arames rolled onto his back. Bull threw a blanket across them and rested his head under his free arm. Arames yawned. 

"When are you going to share a tent with him, Boss? Not that I want to share with Solas...just..."

Arames squeezed his eyes shut and pressed himself against Bull. Truth be told it was the only way he managed to make it through the long nights in the frigid desert without succumbing to hypothermia. 

"When Dorian decides he wants to spend the night with me."

Bull yawned. 

"Fair enough, Boss. I'll miss the cuddles.”


	12. Chapter 12

Skyhold was decorated to celebrate the return of the Herald and the beginning of a week long Wintersend Feast. Candles were lit in every widow and bundles of flowers were hung in door frames. One very abashed noble had to explain the tradition of kissing under the flowers to Arames, who obliged the young girl with a peck on her cheek. He then made sure to avoid using any passages that held the small bouquets.

Ishana had been there to greet Solas upon their arrival to Skyhold. She leapt into his arms and Arames was surprised by the genuine joy and laughter that escaped Solas' lips in her presence. Arames tried to greet her but she ignored him completely, taking Solas' arm and pulling him back toward the keep. Solas glanced back at Arames briefly, guilt across his face. But then, when he thought he was away from prying eyes he pulled Ishana close and kissed her.

According to Ysabelle, when Ishana wasn't studying spirits in the library or sleeping (Izzy called them 'Fade dates') she was with Cullen. His withdrawal symptoms had worsened, and he often forgot to eat unless someone brought him food. Izzy had done it several times, but at some point Ishana intervened, and had spent the last six weeks bringing Cullen his supper. 

"Your Commander is in love, Arames," Izzy noted late one afternoon. She sat in front of the fireplace in his bedroom while Arames slowly brushed and braided her hair. He used to do it daily when they were both with the clan. He missed it. She was growing so fast. 

"Is he now?"

"It seems to be going around. I hope I don’t catch it."

"Whatever do you mean, sulahn'nehn?"

Ysabelle was quiet for a few moments. 

"Arames?"

"Yes?"

"I can hear howling in my sleep. Blackwall made me a bear and it helps, but I can hear him chase you. And I fear that he is now after Shana, too."

"Izzy—"

"Don't tell me they are just dreams! Did you know Hawke met a boy in Kirkwall who could shape the Fade itself? Enter people's dreams? Talk to them?"

"The Fade is a dangerous place, Izzy. And Shana's relationships are...complicated."

Izzy snorted. "She made the wrong choice." 

Arames bit his tongue. He could not help but agree with his sister, but it would do no good saying it aloud. Creators only knew what she thought of Dorian. He finished the final plait and tied off her hair. She kissed him on the cheek.

"You are all going to be the death of one another," she said, her voice heavy with sorrow. "Why is that?"

The anchor flared for a moment. Arames studied it and willed it to quiet. His palm burned and throbbed. 

"I do not know, my little sulahn'nehn. Life is not fair that way, I suppose." 

"You'll talk to her, though, won't you? I fear she has left her common sense behind. That was usually your job."

"Of course, if I can find her, I'll speak with her."  
========================

Ishana avoided Arames the entire week. As such Arames did not see much of Solas, either, which was troubling. Ysabelle and Sera, of all people, had taken to leaving sweets in Cullen's office to make sure he ate. Poor Cullen thought they were from Ishana and asked Arames to thank her during a meeting in the War Room. It broke Arames' heart. He wondered if he was doomed to love from afar, just like the Commander. 

And then the amulet arrived. 

He bounded past Solas, Dorian's amulet heavy in his pocket.

"Inquisitor, Lethallin, if you have a moment." 

Solas' words startled Arames and he stopped short. Lethallin?

"Yes?"

Solas walked out to a balcony, Arames followed.

"You have shown a wisdom and a subtlety in your actions that I have not seen in...not since my deepest journeys into the Fade." Solas stared toward the horizon.

Was this what Izzy meant by mixing up tenses? Arames wondered.

"I wonder, how you balance duty with your own personal needs and desires," Solas asked, fixing Arames with a thoughtful stare.

"I...what?"

"What would you do if your duty, your purpose, conflicted with what you desired?" Solas clarified. 

"I don't know. It doesn't. I suppose, should someone I love truly stand in the way of the greater good, I would make the sacrifice..." Arames stared at his hands, trying to imagine Dorian not wanting the same things he did. Of what Hawke had been forced to do. He shook his head. "I don’t know, Solas. I suppose I think about the greater good and work from there?"

"My thoughts exactly, Inquisitor," Solas replied. He looked over at Arames. "I respect you deeply, lethallin."

"I—thank you, Solas. Ishana...she thinks very highly of you."

Solas smiled. "She is a remarkable woman. Not unlike her brother."

"I often think how much more easily she might have sorted everything out," Arames sighed, "but I got the magic hand. Not her." 

"She has her own burdens to carry." 

Arames looked up at Solas. He wanted to ask about his sister and whether she was happy. He wanted Solas to promise her happiness, but he knew that would be a waste. He chose to run up the stairs to the library, knowing full well that the handsome Tevinter Altus had been watching for him since he stepped into the main building and would be waiting for him.

To his credit, Dorian was sitting in the sunlight thumbing one of Brother Genitivi's tomes in an attempt to look busy. Arames knew it was an act: it was one of the many books Dorian had sent back to Skyhold from Val Royeaux several weeks ago when restocking on reading material.

"I have something, for you." Arames smiled and leaned up against the wall. 

Dorian snapped the book shut and raised an eyebrow.

Arames pulled the amulet from his pocket and placed it into Dorian's palm.

"Here it is. Happy Wintersend."

Dorian studied the amulet in disbelief. "Its...the Pavus' birthright. What did you—how?" He frowned and stared down at the amulet. He stood, slowly, and walked towards the window. After several moments he spoke. "I got myself into this mess. I sold it because I was desperate. I wanted to get it back on my own. You went and retrieved it for me. Now I'm indebted to you. I never wanted this. I told you." He glared back at Arames. 

Arames was confused. All the other gift exchanges he had witnessed had gone very differently. Dorian didn't appear to be angry. Just, upset. Arames tried to hold Dorian's hand. 

"I didn't do this so you'd be indebted to me, Dorian. I did it for you."

Dorian pushed Arames' hand away. "That's the problem."

Arames threw his hands in the air and leaned against the bookshelf. "How is that a problem?!"

Dorian started pacing back and forth in front of the window. "Someone intelligent would cozy up to the Inquisitor, if they could. It'd be foolish not to. He can open doors, get you whatever you want, shower you with gifts and power.” He stopped and stared down at the amulet in his hand. He looked back at Arames. “That's what they'll say. I'm the Magister who is using you."

Arames pushed Dorian against the wall and kissed him. "Is that all? Go ahead and use me, Dorian. Or are you all talk?"

Dorian scowled and held Arames by his shoulders, keeping their bodies apart. 

"That's not what I want you to think."

His voice was soft, pleading almost, and his expression was serious. Arames brushed his fingers across Dorian's cheek. 

"I had no idea it meant so much to you...I think a great deal of you, Dorian. I got you something meaningful because…I care about you.”

They stared at one another for a minute. Arames was trying very hard not to cry. Finally, Dorian took a step back.  
"And I am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts," He bowed slightly and kissed the top of Arames' hand. "I apologize, and thank you. I'm going to stop before I say something syrupy, but I won't forget this. And I will repay you. Count on it."  
Arames stared at his feet, took a deep breath, and wiped his eyes. 

“I mean it,” Dorian murmured, pulling Arames’ chin up so they looked at one another.

"You don't need to make it up to me, that's how gifts work. But perhaps...." Arames pulled Dorian into the corner for another kiss. This time Dorian didn't push him away.

=========================================================================

After Halamshiral, Arames was nervous about having a large party at Skyhold, but it was actually lovely. Josephine incorporated Ferelden, Antivan, Orlesian, and Dalish traditions. Sera corralled all the children at Skyhold, of which there were close to thirty, to build a large snow fortress in the garden. Visiting nobles were the targets of lobbed snowballs and one or two of the younger dignitaries even joined in. A group of scouts, healers, and Chantry sisters sang carols outside the tavern, brightening the spirits of all who passed by. Their songs, coupled with the shrieks and laughter of small children, gave the fortress a festive air. 

But for Arames, Wintersend meant the start of his relationship with Dorian. 

He had pulled Arames to the side halfway through the party at the end of the week and handed him a glass of something fizzy. 

"I got you a gift," Dorian smiled. Arames took a sip and linked their arms.

"Did you now?"

"Have you been to your quarters lately, by chance?"

Arames raised an eyebrow and studied Dorian's face. He shook his head. "Not recently."

Dorian waved at someone in the distance and took a sip of wine. 

"Do, when you have the time. There's...something there that might interest you." 

Curious, Arames slipped out of sight and ran upstairs. His room was exactly as he had left it, papers were strewn about his desk and his couch was covered in books in a feeble attempt to keep up with Bull and Dorian. He threw a log on the fireplace and poured himself a glass of sherry. 

"Wait, that wasn't here earlier..." He murmured to himself.

He heard a soft cough at the stairs to his room. Dorian stood there, smiling.

"So," he took the sherry out of Arames' hand and took a sip. He spun and sat on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other. "Its all very nice, this flirting business. I, however, am not a nice man. So here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal."

Arames walked over to Dorian, who grabbed his hips and pulled him onto the bed.

"It will set tongues wagging, of course," Dorian began to kiss down Arames' neck. "Not that they aren't already wagging. I suppose it really depends. How bad does the Inquisitor want to be?"

There was a challenge to Dorian's question, but also an eagerness for approval that he could not hide. Arames smiled and kissed Dorian's lips as softly as he could.

"I'd thought you'd never ask."

"I like playing hard to get."

"And now?" Arames rolled on top and began to unbutton his shirt.

"I'm gotten." 

The rest of the evening was lost in a blur of sex and sweat and more than a few Tevene curse words.  
=======================

Arames stirred near dawn. He was alone in bed. He sat up, only to see Dorian watching the sunrise by the window, naked. 

"I like your quarters," He smiled over his shoulder.

"Do you now?" Arames marveled at Dorian’s figure silhouetted in the morning light. 

Dorian turned and smiled over at Arames. "Don't misunderstand. I'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity…I just...like your…appointments."

"Ah," Arames reached out and Dorian took his hand, threading their fingers between one another.

"Not that I couldn't suggest some changes. Your taste is a little...austere."

"I grew up in the woods Dorian, you think I care about the furniture someone else picked out? What is this about? You seem a little...distracted."

Dorian kissed Arames. "Sex will do that. It's distracting." 

"I heard a rumor." Arames studied Dorian's face, letting silence envelope them. He had learned that much from Varric and Bull. Dorian frowned.

"Very well, you've rooted me out. There is something I want." Dorian took a deep breath and studied his hands as he spoke. "I'm curious to know where this goes, you and I. We've had fun. Perfectly reasonable to leave it here, get on with the business of killing Archdemons and such..." He looked over at the window.

Arames sat up and pulled Dorian's chin toward him, so they could look one another in the eyes. "Tell me what you want." 

"All on me, then?"

"Should it be all on me?"

Dorian sighed. "I like you. More than I should. More than might be wise. We end it here, I walk away. I won't be pleased, but I'd rather now than later. Later might be dangerous."

"Why dangerous?"

Dorian closed his eyes and ran his fingers across Arames' lips. 

"Walking away might be harder then."

Arames felt his heart skip a beat. So it wasn't in his head. Dorian felt it too. Arames took Dorian's hands in his. "I want more than just fun, Dorian." 

He could not read the expression that passed across Dorian's face. Arames' lip quirked into a smile and he raised an eyebrow. 

"Speechless, I see."

"I was...expecting something different. Where I come from. What happens between two men...its about pleasure. You learn not to hope for more. It'd be foolish.”

Arames shrugged. “Let's be foolish, then.”

Dorian took a ragged breath and smiled at Arames. They burrowed under the covers together and dozed until late morning.


	13. Chapter 13

Hawke had been thrilled with Bull’s Wintersend gift: a pair of silverite daggers so sharp they cut through flesh like softened butter. The handle was dragon bone; carved to perfectly fit her hand. An image of a dragon was etched on each pommel and then painted with enamel. One black and silver, the other red, their tails hooked around one another.

“Izzy painted this,” Arames said, as he studied the craftsmanship.

“With Dagna’s help,” Bull added. 

Hawke beamed up at him. Her hair was braided and wrapped around her head like a halo. She was heading out west with Stroud the next morning. Bull was in good spirits despite her upcoming departure. It likely had something to do with the fact that they had both disappeared for two full days after Bull gave Hawke her Wintersend gift. Bull would be traveling north with the Chargers and Arames to handle some Venatori that might be smuggling red lyrium. Then they would travel south to the Emerald Graves as Cullen oversaw troop deployment. They would see Hawke again in the Western Approach, when they finally launched their assault on Adamant.

“Perhaps the snow will be melted by the time we come back,” Arames handed the daggers back to Hawke, who slid them into leather holsters with as much reverence as a Chantry sister would handle the vestments of the Divine. 

“Spring is my favorite season,” Hawke stretched and leaned back against Bull. “good things always happen in the spring.”

“Well, I'll see you.” He kissed her ear, “that’s certainly a good thing.”

“My, my, you two are so sweet I'm getting a toothache.”

“Well, we can't just stare at each other and sigh. Then you and Dorian wouldn't have anything to do.”

Arames blew her a raspberry.

“Is that the official Chantry position, Herald? Oh, that reminds me. Bull needs a new bed. We kind of, broke the one in his room.” 

“That's the third one! How do you even—“

Bull laughed and Hawke began to explain. Arames ran out of the tavern to the sound of her cackling, his hands clamped over his ears.

========================================================================

Bull’s good mood was short lived. The loss of the Qunari Dreadnaught, the Qunari alliance, and the Qun, seemed too much for the one-eyed mercenary. Arames was slightly grateful Hawke was halfway across Orlais. He was not sure she would have tolerated the sullen and withdrawn man he had become. He said as much in the tavern before they left for the Emerald Graves.

“I don't know,” Varric shuffled his cards. “Her past relationships with Blondie and Broody indicates a penchant for angst. Okay Kid, try it again, like we practiced.”

Cole sat by the window, his stringy blonde hair obscuring his large blue eyes. Next to him sat Ysabelle, her long fair hair braided and pinned along her temple just like Hawke’s. She studied her cards. Cole began to speak.

“Two pair beats one pair, four of a kind beats two pairs…she slips the Ace of Dragons into a thigh-high boot, calls to the barman for another round. Blondie stares at the table, angry, always angry.”

Varric closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“Focus, Kid. You can't beat four of a kind with bad memories.”

“Why won't Bull play? He promised to teach me.” Izzy pouted. Atish’an bleated at her feet. His horns were beginning to come in. In a few weeks he would be too big to bring into the tavern. 

Varic shuffled his cards. “He’s got some stuff to sort through.”

“Salt spray sea of Seheron. Lost in the smoke. Guilt at not feeling guiltier.”

“Come on Kid, focus.”

Cole blinked and looked back at his cards.

“But he has a family. He has The Chargers. He has Hawke. He has you and me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “He was never supposed to follow the Qun. In his heart this was what he wanted.”

“You knew what, Izzy?" Arames said, "he might need to hear that from you. He might listen. I can take Atish’an back to the stable and get him fed.”

“Do you think that will help, Cole?” 

“The Iron Bull feels like a disappointment, he worries he is dangerous. But you help,” Cole turned to Izzy. He smiled. “Yes. He might listen.”

Izzy hopped off the bench and ran up the stairs. Arames stood and whistled for Atish’an. The little Halla followed him across the grounds. They passed Dorian on the way to the stable. 

“Can you believe that I was told by Ser Morris I could not requisition wine for our journey south? Is that your doing?”

“Josephine's, most likely.” 

Atish'an bleated and nuzzled Dorian, searching for sweets.

“You filthy little beggar,” Dorian teased. Sure enough he had a cube of sugar in a pocket. He looked up at Arames."What?"

"He wouldn't beg if you didn't give him sweets."

"And deprive this little one? Perish the thought."

"I have a question for you, Dorian."

"Yes?"

"I was hoping that…well, if you were open to the idea…I was thinking maybe…we could share a tent on this next excursion. I mean, unless you...Creators, why am I nervous right now?"

Dorian smiled and kissed Arames, briefly, on the cheek. He was slowly becoming more comfortable with public displays of affection. Arames grabbed his arm.

"Is that a yes?”

"Of course it is, Ama—Arames."

"Then I'll make sure you get your wine. I'm sure Ser Morris will allow me to request a barrel or two to be sent ahead to the Emerald Graves."

"Vivienne and I would be eternally grateful."

===========================  
They remained in the Emerald Graves long enough to secure a foothold, but would need to return after the assault on Adamant. Josephine's efforts to improve the infrastructure meant that Cullen's troops made it to the Western Approach faster than anticipated. But they had some evidence to use against Sampson, and Fairbanks was proving a reliable ally.

So they traveled West by caravan and still barely managed to make it to the front lines before the siege began. Hawke stood with Cullen and the Chargers, eager to greet them.

"Should I be jealous that you get the largest entourage to greet you?" Arames teased Bull, after the mercenary had finally stopped throwing Hawke in the air and they headed to the large tent Cullen had turned into a makeshift command center. Bull placed his large hand on the back of Arames’ neck.

“You know, Boss. We both got what we need here. I'm good.”

“Good. Tell Izzy when we get back.”

“Can do.”

The mood that evening was subdued. No one wanted to go to war with the Grey Wardens. 

Dorian sat in a canvas folding chair reading, while Arames studied the last of the scout reports. He looked up at the sound of the tent flap moving.

“Knock, knock,” Hawke said.

“Serah Hawke,” Arames smiled. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Hawke looked like she was about to make a joke but then thought better of it. She walked over and shoved a stack of parchments into Arames’ hand.

“What's this?”

“Letters, in case— look, some of us might not make it out alive tomorrow. I've lost enough people to know that sometimes having something to hold afterwards is comforting.”

Arames and Dorian looked over at one another. 

“Well, there goes my state of blissful denial,” Dorian muttered.

“You do you,” Hawke shrugged. “I am assuming you can arrange for these to be delivered should I meet my grisly end?”

Arames nodded. He had left a note for Ishana back at Skyhold. They had not spoken since their argument in the stairwell. But Cullen had mentioned her interest in helping him locate Sampson. He was lost in thought for a moment and then noticed Hawke had not left.

“Yes?”

Hawke fidgeted with her hair for a moment before blurting out, “Inquisitor, I wanted to thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

“Bull.”

She saw the confusion on his face and the words spilled out before she could stop herself.

“For making the decision he could not. He will live longer as a Tal-Vashoth. It also means that I have a chance of…” she trailed off and studied her hands intensely. 

“You two are good for each other.”

She sighed. “I am sure Varric has told you about Anders.”

He nodded. “Some.”

“I have a shot to do this right. I'm going to try.”

“That's good to hear. But shouldn't you tell this to Bull?”

“I will. I mean, we never said it was serious. I don’t want him to think—”

“Maker’s breath, woman—he gave you weapons. If that’s not a sign he knows you well and cares deeply I cannot think of anything else.” Dorian exclaimed. Hawke looked surprised at Dorian’s outburst, and then smiled broadly. Arames chuckled. 

“I will see you in the morning, lady Hawke. Try not to break anything tonight.”

She laughed and nodded. After she left Dorian snapped his book closed. 

“I honestly didn't think that woman was capable of being serious.”

“Dorian—“ Arames started.

“No—we are not having that conversation. You are going to be fine. So am I.”

Arames walked over and kissed Dorian on the lips.

“Blissful denial?”

“Blissful denial.”

“As you wish.”


	14. Chapter 14

Dorian's state of blissful denial was short-lived. He and Arames were separated during the battle when Corypheus' dragon attacked, and then Arames fell into the Fade. 

Hours passed. 

The remaining Wardens soon joined the Inquisition forces to defeat the demons and possessed mages. Then the eerie stillness that settles on a battlefield after the fighting stops. The cries of the injured. The frantic calls for healers. The waiting. It was as if everyone was holding their breath. 

Dorian sat by Cullen as they waited. He found the ex-templar’s latent abilities comforting, for some bizarre reason. Perhaps having his magic canceled was grounding. Bull seemed on the verge of a breakdown as the hours ticked by with no sign of the Inquisitor, the Champion, and the only Grey Warden of rank left.

When the rift crackled to life everyone collectively exhaled. Hawke ran into Bull's arms. He held her tight.

"Where is the Inquisitor?" Cullen demanded. 

"He wanted to stay," she whispered. "But Stroud wouldn't allow it. I don't know if—" 

Dorian felt faint. 

Arames tumbled through the rift and closed it behind him. He had a gash across his face that was bleeding, badly. Dorian was at his side instantly, his handkerchief pressed against the wound. 

"You bloody bastard, making me worry. Don't ever do that again."

Arames nodded, then promptly fainted.

=======================  
Hawke left for Weisshaupt almost immediately after the dust had settled at Adamant. Bull sat by the fire in the evening, quietly studying her gift: a dragon’s tooth on a hearty leather cord that he could wear around his neck. Dagna had helped the Champion craft it. For the first time since becoming Tal-Vashoth he seemed happy.

Solas, too, was withdrawn. Arames had tried to discuss what the Nightmare demon had said but he refused. Instead he lashed out at Arames for giving the Grey Wardens another chance. Arames was not in the mood for another lecture about corruption within large organizations. The fact that Solas was likely bedding his sister only added to Arames’ irritation. Sera had not helped by suggesting Solas might end up a part of his family.

“Old enough to be your father but he'd actually be your brother-in-law. No, wait! a bother-in-law,” she cackled. 

Arames glared at her. But it was Solas who seemed particularly flustered by her teasing. It was as if he had not realized the intensity of Ishana’s feelings or their implications.

"My dear Solas, do not pretend to be surprised," Vivienne scoffed. 

“The poor girl is crazy about you, Chuckles. Must be your winning sense of humor.”

Solas studied the campfire in silence.

“Not to be too difficult,” Arames said, “but what are your intentions with my sister? Considering the intensity of her feelings?”

Sera snorted whatever she was drinking and had a coughing fit which soon devolved into laughter. Arames caught the glimpse of a smirk on Vivienne’s face. Solas clenched his jaw.

“Good night,” he said, and stomped back to his tent. 

“I thought you liked Solas,” Sera said when she had recovered.

“It's complicated, Sera. I like you. You try and bed my sister and it would be a similar reaction.”

Sera wrinkled her nose. “Too bony.”

“Don't lie,” Arames teased. “You tried.”

Sera shrugged. “Who didn't?”

Bull, Varric, and Dorian raised their hands. 

“Yes, fine,” Sera huffed. “We still good, right Inky?”

Arames nodded and ruffled her hair. She swatted him away. Arames looked back at Solas’ tent. He thought about following and trying to talk, but sensed it would be fruitless. He decided to at least wait until morning.

=====================  
The next morning Solas was gone. He left a note saying he was traveling ahead to Skyhold.

“I suppose you struck a nerve, Sera," Dorian observed.

“Good. Maybe he'll stop trying to ask me about Elfy things. Or next time he gets arrows. Or whatever did that to your face.”

Arames touched his cheek. It was still swollen and mottled with bruises. The blade, or whatever it had been, had been poisoned and would leave a scar. Arames did not mind so much, but it clearly upset Dorian. Arames shrugged. 

“I'm still twice as handsome as the next person in the room.”

Sera laughed.

“Glad to see you didn't lose your sense of humor in the Fade,” Varric sniggered.

“You. Almost. Died.” Dorian hissed.

“No I didn't. Stuck in the Fade, perhaps, but I was perfectly healthy.”

"Minus the poisoned wound to the face," Varric added. 

"Not helpful, Varric." 

Dorian pouted. Arames did not argue further. Perhaps with time the fretting would subside. It did mean he cared, which was a comfort.

"Everyday we don't die is a good day," Bull patted Dorian on the shoulder and smiled down at the tooth around his neck. "Take the victories where you can, Pavus. Life is too short." 

Arames threaded his fingers through Dorian’s and leaned against his shoulder. “I came back to you, Dorian. That must count for something, right?”

Dorian said nothing, but held Arames’ hand as they ate their breakfast.


	15. Chapter 15

It was late morning when they finally arrived back at Skyhold, two days after Solas had departed the camp. Arames was looking forward to a hot bath and sleeping in a real bed for a few days before they traveled back to the Emerald Graves. The turnaround always varied based on where Arames was needed the most.

He heard the quiet sobbing as he climbed the stairs. Ishana was sprawled out on his bed, her chest heaving. He had not seen her cry that way since their mother died.

"Shana!" Arames shouted and ran to her side. Her arms flew out and wrapped around him, burying her head in his neck. He held her for a few moments and her breathing finally slowed. "What happened?”

"Oh, Arames..." She looked up at him. They stared at one another for a moment in silence.

"Your face!" They shouted at one another. 

"By the Dread Wolf, Arames, what happened to you?!" She touched his face.

"Ishana, your vallaslin—its gone!" 

Tears streamed down her face. She hiccuped.

"Solas told me the truth about the vallaslin—they are slave markings, Arames. The elves of Arlathan were no worse than Tevinter. He knew a spell—"

"You let him perform magic on you?" 

"Our people swore that we would never again be slaves. How could I keep the vallaslin, knowing the truth?"

Arames swallowed bile. Ancient memories of the Fade, indeed. He held Ishana's face in his hands, trying not to let his mark flare and kept his voice even.

"What happened next, Shana?"

She bit her lip. 

"Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head.

"He told me I was beautiful. And that he was selfish for wanting to remove the vallaslin. He said I was a rare spirit...and...he left." She hiccuped and began to sob again.

"He what?"

"He left me Arames. He called me vhenan and apologized and...just...left."

Arames' hand crackled and he pulled it away from Ishana's face. He stood up. 

"Where are you going?" She asked, grabbing his hand.

"I'm going to go kill Solas," Arames replied. Then shook his head. "No, I am going to get Bull and Dorian, and we are going to kill Solas. Maybe Varric would help. Too back Hawke isn't here..."

"No! Arames, I love him." 

He glared at her and she clamped her hands over her mouth. He sat down and wrapped his arms around her. 

"Do you, lethallan?" 

She sniffled. "I think so…it all happened so fast. I've never felt like this before.”

He kissed the top of her head. He thought of how upset Dorian had been when Arames came back from the Fade. Was that love? Iron Bull told Hawke she was his “Kadan,” which was the Qunlat equivalent of vhenan. He just seemed so sure of what he wanted. Was he in love with Dorian? Could it happen so quickly as it had for Ishana? And what did that mean for Cullen? She clearly cared deeply for the Commander but in a different way, perhaps. He looked into her red rimmed eyes. 

"Then I won't kill him. But only 'cause you asked."

She laughed, weakly. Arames wiped her tears away with his thumbs. 

"Your turn, Arames. What happened to your handsome face?"

"Oh, that." Arames probed the gash on his cheekbone gingerly. "The battle at Adamant was...complicated." 

“Complicated?” Ishana raised an eyebrow and studied his wound. “You were poisoned. By what?”

Arames shrugged. 

“Arames, Grey Wardens do not poison their weapons. Neither do abominations.”

“I honestly don’t remember, Shana. After we fell into the Fade—”

“You what?!”

Arames massaged his temples. The headaches were triggered so easily.

“We fell off a battlement and I accidentally opened a rift…and…”

Ishana burst into tears again and fell into his lap. Arames gently stroked the side of her face as she sobbed. “Ir abelas,” she sniveled. “Arames, I almost lost you…and Solas said nothing. I was so excited to see him I did not think of you…and, he just—” 

She heaved and Arames held her for several more minutes. When the tears subsided, Arames spoke again, his fingers pulling her hair out of her face. 

"If that man does not appreciate what a treasure you are, perhaps you should look elsewhere, Shana."

"Who?"

"I believe the Commander is holding onto some hope you may have some affection for him."

“Oh, Cullen,” she hiccuped. “How he could ever forgive me…”

"I'm not saying now," Arames clarified. "I am saying, do not close your heart off because one man with a death wish refuses to treasure it. I also think that you need a night in the tavern."

"But you just got back, you must be tired."

"Shana, for you, I would fight the Dread Wolf himself."

"Arames, would you mind if—"

"You can stay here as long as you need. Dorian will understand."

"I am sorry about—"

"Ar lath ma, dear sister. Ir abelas, ma vhenan. Come, we will drink and you will cry and maybe tomorrow your heart will hurt less."

======================  
She slept in his bed for the next few days, curled into a small ball with her brother wrapped around her. Just as they had as small children. Their mother used to tell them stories of how as infants they would end up almost tied in a knot. One of many memories that would suddenly emerge and tear at his heart. It reminded Arames that both his parents were lost to him and he could not protect his own sister from pain.

“Mamae would have known what to do in this situation,” he had confessed to Dorian late one evening.

“You don't know that.”

"Creators, what do I do if Izzy falls in love?"

Dorian rested his hand on Arames’ forearm. He smiled, softly, and his voice was reassuring. 

"We have time before that happens, Arames."

Arames nodded, absently. He then looked over at Dorian. ‘We have time,’ Dorian had said. It implied something that they had not discussed: the length of time they might remain at one another’s side. Arames grabbed Dorian’s hand and held it, their fingers intertwined. 

“It's made me think, Dorian. What happens to us, after?”

Dorian made a face and stared into the fire. “Dreadful thing. After. Assuming we both survive? I do not know. I believe we deal with after, after. You want to go our separate ways I'll understand. I've been a port in a storm before.”

“Is that all this is?” Arames let their hands slip apart. 

Dorian scowled and looked out the window. Arames dropped the subject. 

======================  
Rather than dwell on her heartache, Ishana dove into training, working with both the Chargers and the Inquisition soldiers daily. Cullen arranged for specialists to come and provide extra training with her blades. She trained endlessly and Arames remained at her side for several weeks. When his duties pulled him south Arames felt conflicted. He did not want to leave her so soon. But Ishana promised she would be fine. 

"Dagna had some leads regarding Sampson’s armor, I promised Cullen I would help. He is gentle. So different from Solas. I wonder now…” 

“Go slow, Shana. There is no rush.”

“I will, Arames. Nothing will change in your absence, I promise.”


	16. Chapter 16

The journey to the Emerald Graves was awkward. Solas refused to discuss his reasons for ending his relationship with Ishana, and Arames could not pretend that his friend hadn't shattered his sister’s heart. Sera and Bull felt similarly, glaring at him from across the campfire. Sera had even lobbed food at Solas’ head during dinner and called him a few choice words. Arames did not correct her, he simply glared at Solas with the others.

Cole looked across the fire towards Solas. "She is bare-faced, embarrassed, and she doesn't know. She thinks it's because of her."

Arames felt his heart constrict as Cole spoke. He thought of Ishana lost in an unfamiliar place, having trusted the man she loved would not lead her astray. He thought of her naked face, her tears, and a knot of rage settled in his stomach. 

Solas sighed. “You cannot heal this, Cole. Please, let it go.”

“Perhaps Cole can get a better answer from you than she did,” Arames added. Solas looked at Arames, fresh pain on his face. Arames glared back, indifferent to his friend’s heartache. 

Cole studied Solas for a moment, “He hurts, an old pain from before, when everything sang the same. You're real, and it means everyone could be real. It changes everything, but it can't. They sleep, masked in a mirror, hiding, hurting, and to wake them...Where did it go?”

Solas stood abruptly.

“I apologize, Cole. That is not a pain you can heal.” He turned around and walked away from the campfire. 

Arames and Dorian shared a puzzled glance. Since when could Solas prevent Cole from seeing his thoughts?

===========================

Over the next few days Arames pondered the exchange between Cole and Solas. Who was sleeping? Masked in a mirror? It made no sense. But, if Cole couldn't understand or convince Solas to change his mind then no one could. This left Arames convinced that Solas thought he was doing the right thing for Ishana, and Arames could not help but agree. His heart ached for her pain, but in the long run, perhaps she would find someone who would treasure her above all else. Who might love her as much as he did. He knew Solas was not that person.

===========================

He found that walking around the land where the last of the Elvhen sentinels were buried made him more thoughtful and forgiving than his companions. He marveled at the lush forest that surrounded him. He imagined what it must have been like, before the fall of Arlathan. 

“Lost in thought?” Dorian asked, late one afternoon. The others were already a good twenty paces ahead. Dorian lingered with Arames. They had not had much time alone since Dorian’s ‘ship in a habor’ comment weeks ago. 

“It is beautiful here. I was thinking, maybe I could live here, after the Inquisition is no longer in need of me.”

“A chateau in the south? How quaint.”

Arames reached for Dorian's hand. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “would you come with me, Dorian?”

“What, here?”

“Here, there, wherever. Will you...stay with me?”

Dorian said nothing. His face registered shock.

“Dorian?” 

“I—“

A sudden distant glimmer of metal caught Arames’ eye. He shoved Dorian onto the ground.

“Vhenan, look out!”

Dorian, confused, cast a lightning bolt into the nearby woods and their attacker screamed. Arrows sailed overhead as the Freemen attacked. Arames cast a barrier and shielded Dorian with his body. Soon enough he heard Bull’s war horn and Sera’s arrows found their targets. The fight was over within minutes. Arames grabbed Dorian's shoulder to help him stand.

“Creators, Dorian, you're bleeding!” He began to pad at Dorian’s stained robes, looking for the wound. Dorian’s face grew pale.

“Arames I'm not, fasta vass, you're injured.”

Arames looked down and noticed that it was his tunic rapidly soaking through with blood. He had two arrowheads lodged in his rib cage.

“Oh.” He dropped to his knees. Blood seeped over Dorian's hands as he tried to staunch the wound.

“Arames! Amatus stay with me, please!” Dorian begged. He lay Arames in his lap and tried to slow the bleeding. “Solas! Vivienne, help!” 

“Dorian…” Arames felt faint and his mouth tasted of metal. “It doesn't hurt. It's okay.”

“Venhedis…if you die on me I swear I'll bring you back from the dead and kill you myself.”

Arames felt some warmth as Vivienne and Solas cast their spells, but it did not stop the bleeding. 

“He needs a proper healer,” Vivienne frowned as she studied the wound. “Here, Inquisitor, darling, drink this.” She tipped a healing potion into his mouth. He felt cold.

“But we are hours from the nearest camp,” Dorian hissed. “And he cannot ride.” 

“We're sitting ducks out here,” Bull rumbled. “I say we patch him up best we can and go back to Argon's Lodge. Arames looked over at Bull, he could not read the expression on his face.

“How did you get here so fast?”

“Shit, Boss, I told you after Haven. I’m never letting you outta my sight again.”

Arames brushed Dorian's face with his fingertips. Dorian wrapped his hand around Arames’ and held it against his cheek. “You are safe, vhenan.”

“You had to go and be a bloody hero, didn't you?” Dorian’s face was smeared with blood. Arames tried to tell him, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. 

“Solas,” Bull urged, “slap a bandage around his torso and I'll carry him. Please, before he bleeds out.”

Arames drifted in and out of consciousness on the journey to Argon's Lodge. At some point he was on horseback and heard Fairbanks shouting orders. Voices faded in and out.

“Mostly blood loss—“

“Don't think the weapons were poisoned—“ 

“Pavus, you should go wash off—“

“I'm not leaving him!”

“Maker, is all that blood his?”

“He said vhenan—Solas what does it mean?”

“Shit Sparkles, you don't need a translator for that, do you?”

They tipped another potion down his throat and he fell asleep.

“My heart,” Solas whispered next to Dorian. His voice filed with fresh sorrow. “Vhenan means my heart.”

=======================================================================================

Arames awoke in his bed in Skyhold, naked from the waist up, his torso bandaged. He heard a book snap shut before he saw anyone. Dorian was there, sitting in his armchair by the fire. 

“Awake, finally? Amatus?” 

“Dorian,” Arames could not help but smile at his lover. “How long has it been?” 

“Four days. We had to travel by carriage to the surgeon here at Skyhold. You are very lucky. You are not allowed to do that again.” 

“Do what?” 

“Almost die. I swear you are aging me by the day. You know I found a grey hair the other day? A grey hair!” 

Arames leaned back against the large pile of pillows on his bed. His ribs were badly bruised and breathing was somewhat difficult. “You'll look handsome with silver hair.” 

“Of course I will, but that's not the point.” 

They looked at one another for a few moments. Finally, Dorian spoke. 

“You said something when we were in the Emerald Graves—“ 

Arames sat up in the bed. He took a deep breath and then winced as a sharp pain went through his side. “I should have said it sooner.” 

“Arames…what does…vhenan mean?” 

“What does Amatus mean?” 

Dorian came and sat on the edge of the bed. Arames traced Dorian's profile with his fingertips and kept talking. 

“I would imagine that they mean similar things, Dorian. Vhenan is a Dalish term of deep affection. In the common tongue I would say something crude. Like…I don't know…I love you.” 

He fixed his pale green eyes on Dorian's. 

“You…what?” 

“I love you, Dorian. I love everything about you. Your voice, your smell, your temper, your passion. I have for longer than I'm willing to admit.” 

“Amatus—“ 

The door below slammed open. 

“The healers said—“ 

“Is he awake?!” 

Dorian stood up as Ishana and Izzy flew onto the bed, careful to avoid their brother’s tender abdomen. Tears and laughter filled the room. After a few moments Dorian tried to slip down the stairs but Ishana grabbed his arm. 

“Oh no you don’t!” 

“I thought I'd give you time, as family,” he frowned as Ishana dragged him back towards the bed. 

“Appreciate the thought—“ Ishana started. 

Ysabelle interrupted her. “But you ARE family, Dorian.” She hugged him. 

Ishana smiled down at her brother. “What she said.” 

Arames felt tears prickle his eyes. Dorian appeared misty as well. They smiled at one another. 

“From what Arames tells me your father was as understanding as ours—“ 

“Less, much less,” Arames corrected. 

Ishana shrugged. 

“Look, I have a new rule when it comes to people I care about: don't be an asshole. As long as you treat my brother well, we’re good.” 

“This is the last thing I thought I would find in the south,” Dorian kissed Izzy on the top of her head and smiled at Ishana. 

“What's that?” Asked Izzy. 

“Just, this. All of it.”


	17. Chapter 17

Spring in Skyhold was a marvel. Flowers erupted from the ivy converted walls and the garden was filled to capacity with plant specimens Arames had collected from his travels across Thedas. Haven was finally unburied. Cullen had gone with a group of Inquisition officers for the ceremony to honor the deceased. Somehow it had been lost on Arames that Cullen would have known many of the Templars lost at the conclave. But not Ishana, who went with him. Granted, it was as a solider for the Inquisition, but still. It seemed that with time her infatuation with Solas seemed just that. Not that it could have developed into something far deeper with time, but no longer. Solas had made sure of that when he abandoned her at the waterfall near Crestwood. 

The troops began to whisper about the Commander and a Dalish Assasin. Arames particularly enjoyed talking to the more clueless recruits who had not figured out that Ishana was his twin. One or two learned about Ishana’s older brother the hard way and ended up in the infirmary. More often than not, though, Arames trusted Ishana to fight her own battles. She was more than capable of fighting her own battles. 

For his part, Arames was cleared to train after a week of bed rest. During that time Ishana had moved into the barracks and Izzy took a room in the Circle tower with several friends. Dorian, meanwhile, used his quarters at Skyhold as a glorified closet, spending most of his time in Arames’ chambers. 

The spring also brought a whole new travel itinerary. First, they would travel north into Tevinter to chase Sampson and then Arames would fulfill a long-held promise to Izzy for a trip to Val Royeaux. Ishana and Cullen were part of the select group of Inquisition soldiers who escorted Arames to Dumat’s temple and chose to remain with them as they traveled into the city. They all met Josephine and Ysabelle’s ship in the harbor. 

Ysabelle was practically bouncing from excitement. 

"Lady Vivienne has told me all about Val Royeax," she explained to Bull for what may have been the eight hundreth time during their short voyage across the sea. "And Arames has promised to buy me a dress.” 

"This is a short trip, Izzy," Arames reminded her. "I have a few things I need to get. Dorian will take you to the dress shop." 

She nodded. 

"Are you going to get anything for Lady Hawke?" She asked Bull. She sat atop the one-eyed mercenary's shoulder. Bull argued it was so they wouldn't lose her in the crowd, but Arames remembered carrying Izzy around when she was little, and missed it. The large Qunari mercenary was the only person she allowed to coddle her, having just reached her thirteenth name day. Bull mulled over her question. 

"Uhh, I don't know...I hadn't thought about it. Should I?" 

"Lady Josephine was talking about how suitors are supposed to bestow their beloveds with gifts. Is Hawke your beloved?" 

"She's my...something." 

"I'll help you pick something out." 

Ishana hated crowds almost as much as Cullen hated Orlesian nobles, so naturally the two remained on the dock. Izzy fixed her gaze on Cullen. 

“Did you hear what I said, Commander? Suitors are supposed to bestow gifts on their beloveds to woo them.” 

“I—uhh—“ Cullen stammered, his face turning crimson. 

Arames grabbed Ishana’s wrist before she could get her hands on one of her throwing knives. 

“Bull, take Izzy away before she gets hurt. Shana, Josephine can show you to the mansion we are using while we are here.” 

“Of course, unless the Commander would like to show lady Lavellan the sights?” 

Cullen shook his head, irritated by the sudden influx of stares and comments from masked individuals. “What sights? It's a market.” 

Josephine made that irritated whistle sound through her nose. Ishana shook her head. 

“No, thank you. l think just some quiet would be good.” She looked up at Cullen. “Perhaps we could categorize the tools we recovered from Maddox’s workshop?” 

Cullen's face lit up. “Yes! Do you have any suggestions for a method?” And they walked back onto the boat. 

Arames stood alone with Josephine, who looked incredulous. 

“I do not understand those two.” 

“What's worse is that they will actually spend the next few hours doing exactly that: categorizing.” Arames shook his head. “Josephine, make sure they join us for dinner.” 

“Of course, my lord.”   
======================  
He eventually found Dorian and Bull in one of the many shops that Vivienne had suggested. A team of Orlesian seamstresses were fawning over Izzy. Dorian was discussing designs while Bull was thumbing through a collection of fabric swatches. 

“So, eet is true, then?” One of the tailors asked as he took Izzy’s measurements, “Zee Inquisitor is your brother?” 

Izzy beamed and nodded. 

“He practically raised me. Our mother died when I was very young, and Arames took over. He carried me, fed me, clothed me, brushed my hair, taught me to paint…” She became distracted as one of the ladies draped a stretch of crimson fabric over her shoulder. 

“I didn't know that,” Dorian frowned at Arames. 

“Didn't know what?” Bull asked. 

“I thought…” 

Bull chuckled. 

“What?” Dorian scowled. 

Bull handed a swatch to one of the seamstresses. 

“Have you watched Boss and his sister around Izzo? They remind me of my tamassaran. They don't talk about her like a sister. They sound like parents.” 

Arames watched Izzy twirl around in a skirt. 

“Does the little Madame like to paint?” One of the ladies asked Izzy. Arames was unclear whether or not she was being sarcastic. 

“Yes! Would you like to see?” Izzy asked. She jumped off of the stand and rifled through a bag by her feet. She pulled a small rolled canvas out and unfurled it. A portrait of Atish'an in the garden. It was so real Arames could swear he could reach out and touch the flowers. 

“By zee Maker, this is beautiful! Inquisitor, I did not know you had such a talent!” 

“I don't. She is self taught.” 

“But she said—“ 

“Showing someone how to hold a brush does not a tutor make.” 

“I have others,” Izzy beamed. She never got to be the center of attention, especially since Arames had become inquisitor. “Would you like to see?” 

“Oh yes!” One girl squealed. 

Bull clapped Arames on the back. 

“You did good with this one, Boss.” 

Arames shrugged. “How can you not love her?” 

“True enough.” 

“I assume You two can get her back to the mansion by the harbor without much trouble?” 

“Sure thing, Boss.” 

“Where are you going?” Dorian asked. 

“New gloves,” Arames wiggled his fingers. “Ser Morris put in a request at a shop not far from here. It's so I can travel without being easily identified.” 

“Don't know if the Qunari and Tevinter travel companions help with the whole incognito thing, Boss.” 

Arames shrugged. 

“I don't like the idea of you traveling alone,” Dorian pouted. 

“You do realize I traveled all the way across the free marches to Haven on my own. And you did the same from Tevinter to Ferelden, vhenan.” 

“Fine,” Dorian huffed. “But if you aren't back within a half hour then I am getting you.” 

Arames rolled his eyes and nodded. It was nice to know someone worried about him.   
======================   
His new gloves fit perfectly. Arames felt comfortable as he wandered through the city, anonymous. The markets thinned out as the neared the alienage. He had never been in one. He could see the Vhenadahl from a far. Arames was suddenly keenly aware of how expensive his clothing was, especially compared to those around him. And suddenly, the streets were empty, save a group of rough looking humans were talking with a middle aged elven man. 

“Please, you said tomorrow. I can have the coin by tomorrow. I only need to sell a few wares,” the elven man begged. 

One of the humans shook his head. 

“Pay up now.” 

“But—“ 

“Now, knife ear, or your daughter pays.” 

“She's sixteen!” 

“She can take turns paying us,” another man replied. 

The men laughed. 

“Dorian's going to kill me,” Arames muttered. He walked over to the group. “Is there a problem?” 

“Well aren't you well-dressed for a rabbit?” One man sneered. 

“Keep out of this, knife-ear,” another growled. 

“Would that I could,” Arames shrugged, “but I can't ignore the fact that you threatened this nice gentleman’s daughter.” 

One of the men swung at Arames. He ducked out of the way, but another fist hit him above his right eye, sending him stumbling back. 

Arames shook his head to clear it. He held his fists up. 

“I was going to offer to pay his debts, but if you insist—“ he cracked the first man in the stomach and under the jaw. Two other men took his place and Arames was blocking blows to his sides. The elven man, to his credit, had joined in the fight, only to be knocked out with a single hit. 

Another fist made contact with Arames’ mouth and his head snapped back. He fell to his knees and a boot flew into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. He thought about casting a spell, but couldn't concentrate enough while blocking blows from all sides. He might hurt someone else and he couldn't risk it. He curled into a ball as feet and fists wailed on him. 

One of the men grabbed him and pulled him into a headlock. “This will teach you to meddle,” he muttered. Arames gasped and clawed at the hairy forearm. 

Then the mark flared and the man dropped him. 

Arames grabbed his throat and took a few ragged breathes. 

“What was that?” One man demanded. Another shook his head. 

“That mark—they said the Herald of Andraste was a knife-ear—“ 

“This is the Inquisitor? What is he doing here?” 

“Well,” one man grabbed Arames’ hair and dragged him across the square. “I know someone who will pay handsomely for this marked hand. Grab a knife.” 

“Wait, you can't!” Arames felt panic rise in his throat. 

“Who do you know?” Another man asked. 

“Someone with money—“ 

“That Tevinter fellow? Whose been sending people to Emprise Du Lion?” 

The man nodded. Someone handed him a knife, which he dug into Arames’ throat. He could feel the blood trickle down his neck. 

“You have a choice, rabbit. We take your hand and kill you, or kill you first and then take your hand.” 

Pain shot down his arm as the mark flared. The men backed away and Arames staggered to his feet. 

“Did you know I can open rifts with this?” He wiggled his fingers and the Fade crackled around the anchor. He hurt everywhere and could barely concentrate enough to form words from his swollen mouth. “What kind of demon would you like me to conjure?” 

“Andraste preserve us, he's mad!” 

Arames closed his eyes and sent a bolt of lightning through the men, knocking them to the ground. The man with the knife lunged, knocking them both over. Arames felt a sharp pain in his side as the knife slipped between his ribs. 

“Not so tough now, are you, Inquisitor?” He hissed. Arames could smell the ale on his breath. The man sat up on Arames’ chest. He raised the knife overhead. 

“I'm sorry, Dorian…” Arames whispered. “Falon'Din guide me…” 

But two large hands pulled the man off of Arames. He looked up at his savior, confused. 

“Cullen?” He muttered. 

He had not seen the Commander in casual attire. Dressed in leather breeches and a loose tunic, Cullen looked even more intimidating than in his full armor. He threw the stunned Orlesian thug into a wall. Another man ran at him and Cullen dodged his attacker with surprising grace, grabbed him, and threw him several feet into the nearest wall where he crumpled to the ground. He grabbed another man and knocked him out with two solid punches. 

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Arames tried to keep his voice light, his hand pressed against his side to stop the bleeding. 

“Inquisitor?” Cullen was incredulous. “Maker’s breath, is that you?” 

“Arames!” Ishana's voice called from the other side of the square. A loud thud told Arames that she had dispatched with the last of his attackers. Within moments she was at his side. “Creators, Cullen, he's bleeding!” 

Cullen was bent over the poor Elven man that Arames had tried to help. The man stirred and moaned. Cullen looked up. The humidity was causing his hair to curl ever so slightly and hang over his forehead. His shirt clung to his chest and shoulders. The sight was not lost on Ishana, whose ears turned pink as she stared back at him. 

“You're alright now,” Cullen said to the startled man. He offered his hand and helped him stand. 

Arames stood, leaning heavily on Ishana. 

“I thought you were with the others,” she scolded. 

“I thought you were cataloging artifacts.” 

“We thought to get some air, and Ishana asked to see the Alienage…” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Well, it's not the most romantic of spots,” Arames teased, then coughed. Blood littered the stones at his feet.

“Arames.” 

“Inqusitor, we need to get you to a healer,” Cullen insisted.

“By the Dread Wolf!” The man exclaimed. “You're the Inquisitor? Andraste preserve me, this way!” He beckoned them into the Alienage. “We have a healer.” 

Cullen looked at Arames and then Ishana. Arames staggered and that seemed to answer any questions the two had. With one arm around each of their shoulders, they helped Arames down the steps into a shabby hut. 

An elderly elven woman came running in. 

“What is it now, Ithaen?” 

“Healer Lana, it’s the Inquisitor!” The man named Ithaen explained. “He fought off four thugs on his own.” 

“I wouldn't go that far,” Arames winced as her cool hands probed the wound. Within moments she had him naked from the waist up and was pressing a poultice into the wound. She handed him a herbal paste.

“Chew this.” 

“What for?” 

“Do it. So’s your teeth don't fall out. They hit you in the face, no?” 

Arames obliged. The taste made him gag, but soon enough his mouth was numb. She wrapped a bandage around the knife wound, studied his head and torso, then started to put a series of medicines together. 

“The death root might make him woozy, so—“ 

“You gave my brother death root?!” Ishana hissed. Healer Lana waved her hand as if swatting away a fly. 

“Just a bit, helps to numb and adds blood flow to improve healing. Can't have his teeth falling out. He is far too handsome.” She ground some herbs into a fine dust, poured it into a small envelope, and handed it to Cullen. “He should take this before sleep tonight and again in the morning. That's for the cut and the internal damage. The bruising will need to go away on its own. He will look terrible in a day or two. But he'll live.” 

“Praise Andraste,” Ithaen smiled. 

A young elven girl flew into the hut. 

“Papa! They said you came into Lana’s! Are you alright?!” 

“I am fine, Amala. The Inquisitor saved me.” 

The girl’s eyes widened as she took in the scene. Cullen stood with his arms folded around his chest, cuts on his knuckles from the fight. He stood a full head taller than everyone else and had to stoop to keep from hitting his head on the ceiling. Behind him sat Ishana, hair askew and covered in her brother’s blood. And on the table, Arames, bruised and battered and half naked. She gasped when she saw him. 

“By the Maker,” she whispered, “you’re the Inquisitor?” 

“I look more impressive when I haven't been beaten within an inch of my life,” Arames smiled and waved. The girl flushed from her chest to her ears. 

“You've been spending too much time with Dorian.” Cullen shook his head and looked at Ishana. “We need to get him back to the manor. Josephine will have a fit when she finds out.” 

“We can't just walk Arames through the streets looking like THAT.” 

“Thanks, Shana.” 

She scowled. “How do you always get yourself into trouble, Arames?” 

He shrugged. “It's a talent.” 

“Must you always meddle?” 

“They threatened his daughter. If a group of FOUR men threatened Izzy, what would you have done?” 

“Now I'm wishing I did more than throw them against the wall,” Cullen muttered. 

“I can take you there without anyone seeing you.” Amala piped up. “It's the least I can do to thank you for defending my honor.” She grabbed one of Arames’ hands with both of hers. 

“I—uhh—of course…” Arames stammered, looking at her hands, confusion fading to terror as he recognized the look on her face. Mithareon had looked at him the same way. Ishana groaned and covered her face to hide her smile. Cullen just looked confused. 

“He's not a bloody Chevalier…” He muttered. 

“He might as well be,” Amala sighed. Arames withdrew his hand as if it had been burned. Cullen snorted. 

“Healer, is he well enough to make the walk?” Ishana asked. 

Healer Lana fixed Arames with her bright eyes, and nodded. “Very well, there isn't much more I can do. But he must rest.” 

"We will make sure you are paid for your services," Cullen added before they left. Healer Lana shooed them out. 

They followed Amala through a maze of narrow alleyways and one empty private courtyard. Arames nodded his head absentmindedly as Amala prattled on, talking about Lord This and Lady That and what was it like to go to a ball? 

“I'm sorry, what?” Arames asked when he finally noticed her looking at him expectantly. 

“The ball? What was it like? Was it romantic? I'm sure it was very romantic…” 

Arames thought about the servants killed in their own bed and everyone's indifference to the blood spilled in name of the game. 

“Uhh—“ 

But Amala had her own notion of what a proper Orleisan ball would look like, and proceeded to tell Arames all about it. Arames could not tell if the headache he was developing was because of the fight or poor Amala’s nervous chatter. They neared the back of the manor.

“Oh, you're staying at the De Rosier estate? My cousin works in the kitchen. Give me a moment.” And she slipped away. 

“Creators,” Ishana rubbed her temples. Cullen clapped Arames on the back. 

“You have an admirer.”

Arames glared up at Cullen. “Oh, you noticed? Nothing gets past you. Find it funny do you?” 

Cullen shrugged, “I'm just happy I'm not he recipient of unwanted attention this time.” 

“This time?” Ishana asked. Arames spoke before he realized what he was saying.

“Cullen was the center of attention at Halamshiral. It's been, how many, marriage proposals so far? Eight?” 

“Eleven.” Cullen frowned. 

“Marriage proposals?” Ishana’s voice was small. Cullen spun around and took Ishana's hands in his. 

“Makers breath, Ishana! I didn't tell you because I didn't want to upset you. I’m not marrying anyone.” 

Ishana’s lips wavered for a moment and then parted in a small smile. They stood there, looking at one another. 

Amala returned. 

“This way,” she gestured for them to follow her. 

Dorian, Bull, Josephine, and Izzy were in one of the larger sitting rooms as Cullen, Arames, and Ishana were shown in by Amala's cousin. 

“We've sent runners to all the shops.” Anxiety was palpable in Josephine's voice. “No one has seen the Inquisitor, and Cullen and Lady Ishana have disappeared as well.” 

“No sign of struggle,” Bull added. Dorian was pacing the floor. Bull kept talking. “Look if it's a kidnapping we’ll get a ransom note soon. But I don't think—“ 

“That won't be necessary,” Cullen interjected as they entered the room. Arames hung back for a moment in the hallway. 

Josephine sank into a chair. “Thank the Maker. Where were you?”

Izzy flew into Ishana's arms. 

“I'm sorry we worried you, little sulahn'nehn.” 

Somehow their arrival unhinged Dorian further. 

“Where is he? Do you know? Arames is missing. I went to the shop but he had already left. We went to all the stores but no one had seen him. So we came back to see if he had come to the mansion but—" 

Izzy's eyes finally caught sight of her brother. She shrieked. 

"By the dread wolf, Arames!" 

He took another step towards the room. Dorian pushed Cullen out of the way. 

"Where is he? I'm going to kill him!" 

He froze when he saw Arames leaning against the door frame, bloodied, bruised, and bandaged. He clapped a hand over his mouth. Bull let out a low whistle and Josephine looked like she was about to faint. 

"Amatus," Dorian took a small step towards him, his eyes welling with tears. "What happened?!" 

“Arames got attacked trying to help someone near the Alienage,” Ishana said. “Cullen and I happened to break up the fight.” 

“So all that blood on your shirt belongs to Arames, Shana?” 

“Yes. I should probably change, shouldn’t I?” 

"I'm alright, Dorian." 

Dorian let out a small sob. Arames looked up at Bull. 

“Does it look that bad?” 

“I've seen worse. You okay, Boss?” 

“I'll live.” Arames looked back at Dorian. “Vhenan…” 

“Come on people, let's give them a moment,” Bull said, and the others left the room. When they were alone Arames took a step closer. Dorian studied Arames’ face. 

“Vhenan, say something, please.” Arames begged. 

“I thought I'd lost you,” Dorian whispered. “When we couldn't find you I just knew something terrible had happened. And look.” 

Arames held Dorian's face between his hands. Tears streamed down Dorian's face. 

“I am not going to lie to you, Dorian. I almost died today—“ 

Dorian let out a loud sob. Arames kissed him. 

“But I didn't. So I can tell you this. The last thoughts that passed through my head were about you. Whether you would be alright. And whether you'd know…just how much I love you, Vhenan…” 

Arames let the day's events wash over him. The pain and fear and guilt. He leaned against Dorian's shoulder and allowed himself to fall apart as Dorian held him. 

“I'm never letting you out of my sight again.” 

“Don't, Vhenan. Where you go, I go. Promise?” 

Dorian kissed Arames on the lips and smiled. 

“I promise, Amatus.”


	18. Chapter 18

It was nearing the end of summer when they finally got word that Corypheus’ forces had amassed in the Arbor Wilds. Six months since Wintersend had cemented Arames’ relationship with Dorian. In some ways it was as if no time at all had gone by, while in other ways it seemed like years. Dorian spent most nights with Arames and there was an ever growing collection of his things left in an emptied dresser drawer. They would stay up late in the evening discussing Maevaris’ efforts to build an actual resistance within the Imperium. Other nights they enjoyed Diamondback and Wicked Grace in the tavern with their friends. Ishana and Cullen would join, and the Commander would walk her back to the barracks before returning to his office. 

“Makers breath, would they just kiss already,” Dorian hissed as they walked back toward the main building. 

“They will. What's the rush? Think about how long it took us to finally say how we felt.” 

“I suppose so.” 

“I almost feel bad for Solas.” 

“Do you now?” Dorian chuckled. 

“I said almost. She IS my sister.” 

Dorian took Arames’ hand as they walked through the silent grounds. 

“What do you expect to find in the Arbor Wilds?” He asked. 

“Whatever may be left of Mythal’s temple. I don't know what else. Why?” 

“We are fighting an army of Ventatori, Red Templars, and perhaps factions of corrupted Grey Wardens.” 

“And we have an army of Grey Wardens, Orlesians, and Fereldeners.” 

Dorian chuckled. “An army of the faithful.” 

“Hopefully this works out better for me than Andraste.” 

Dorian squeezed his hand. “I'm coming with you into that temple. You burn. I burn with you.” 

“I promise. We’re in this together.”   
===================== 

The fighting in the Arbor Wilds had been going on for three days by the time the Inquisition troops were close enough to make the push to the temple. The night before they all assembled in the large tent that doubled as a command center. Cullen outlined the plans of attack, moving representative markers across the map he'd pinned to the table. 

“It is quite possible for you to take a small team along the river to the ruins, while we hold of Corypheus’ forces here and here.” 

Arames studied the map. He was not a tactician. That was Cullen's job. “Where will you be?” Arames asked. 

“Here, at the front. Leliana will lead the second wave.” 

Bull walked over and studied the map. “Risky, I like it.” 

“Risky how?” Arames asked. 

Bull pointed at the river. “It drops off here. There's a waterfall. Which we can use to bottleneck the enemy forces.” 

“But…” Arames prodded. 

“But,” Cullen sighed, “it means that if we get cut off, or if the enemy flanks us, we may not have the forces to hold them off.” 

“We can hold them off,” Ishana cut in. Arames was still not used to seeing her in Inquisition armor. 

“Wait, what? You? No. Absolutely not.” 

“No what, Arames?” 

“You are not going to the front lines.” 

“What about you?” 

“That's different—“ 

“How, Arames? Why am I different from the other soldiers in this army?” 

Arames look at the faces of the other officers. Rylan, Charter, Krem, and half a dozen other men and women he knew by name. And even more he did not. Ishana watched him, defiance in her face, now unmarked by the vallaslin and making her look so young. She had a point. 

“You cannot tell me what to do," she said. 

“But I can, Ishana. I am the Inquisitor. I can order you to stay here.” 

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Rylan's eyebrows arched, while Krem became very interested in one of the buckles on his bracer. Charter smiled and nodded. Arames had avoided direct orders since Haven, relying on suggestions and advice from his friends. Cullen had always had control of the army. Ishana looked like a child who had just been grounded. 

“You wouldn't. Cullen—“ 

The Commander said nothing, his jaw clenched so tight Arames was afraid it would pop. Cullen wanted Ishana in the front with him for the same reasons Arames wanted her at the main camp. To protect her. He sighed.

“I would. I want to. And Cullen would follow those orders if I gave them. But I cannot treat you any different from any of the other soldiers in this room, even though I want to. Besides, me try to control you? Creators, Ishana, it is like trying to control the weather. Just, be careful.” 

She nodded. 

He looked around the room. "That goes for all of you. Let's all get through this in one piece. Bull?” 

“Yeah Boss?” 

“The Chargers can follow us along the river. If Leliana is leading the second wave, then maybe you can offset the space between and keep the front line from getting cut off. I'd like to minimize our losses.” 

“Sure thing, Boss.” 

Arames sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Another headache was coming on. Cullen finally spoke up.   
“If that will be all, Inquisitor?” 

“What? Yes, sorry. Thank you Cullen.” 

“You heard the Inquisitor. Dismissed.” 

The tent emptied out. The pounding in his head was getting worse. 

“Headache?” Cullen asked, his voice gentle. Arames nodded. 

“That obvious?” 

“I can recognize the symptoms.” 

“Yours seem to have improved.” 

“They have.” 

“I'm glad.” 

Cullen leaned against the table and looked at Arames. “You know I will let no harm come to her.” 

Arames looked up. Cullen's eyes were some impossible gold color that matched his hair, which curled and fell across his forehead in the humid jungle air. His face was sincere. 

“I know, Cullen.” 

“I know after Solas…she is careful to offer her heart to anyone. But I know how I feel. I have not felt this way in…ever, perhaps. I will not—Arames, I would die first.” 

“I know, Cullen. You are a good man, and she cares for you. But I know Ishana, and she is fiercely protective. She would put herself in harms way to protect those she cares about.” 

“Like you. In the Emerald Graves.” 

Arames nodded. 

“We are very similar. Which is why I need you to watch her. Don't let her try and be a hero. Promise me. Izzy can't lose both of us.” 

“I promise.” 

=========================================================================================

The temple of Mythal left him breathless. Morrigan and Cassandra argued over whether to walk the path to honor the gods or jump down into the hole Sampson blew in the courtyard. 

“It is a waste of time!” Cassandra yelled. Solas disagreed. 

Arames was tired. They had been fighting all morning and his headache had not abated. In fact Morrigan and Solas’ bickering and lectures about Elven culture, dismissing any of Arames’ suggestions only worsened his mood. 

“I grew up honoring the gods. I may be but a child, but I will not abandon my culture because it is convenient, Seeker.” His voice was uncharacteristically sharp. Dorian squeezed his shoulder. 

“Then we walk along the tiles. I think I figured out the pattern of this one.” 

The pounding worsened as they went on. When they finally caught up with Sampson Arames could hardly walk and leaned heavily on Dorian’s shoulder. 

“Vishante kafass, Arames.” Dorian hissed. “You need to fight.” 

Arames nodded and stood up. Sampson was holding a mallet that even Bull would struggle to swing. 

“Inquisitor, you and those elf-things don't know when to stop. You've hunted us across half of Thedas...I should've guessed you'd follow us into this hole. " 

"Yes, surprise, surprise. I ruin everything." 

Sampson sneered and pointed up the hill. "Corypheus chose me twice. First as his general, and now as his vessel for the Well of Sorrows. You know what's inside the well? Wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can scour the world. I give it to Corypheus and he can walk into the Fade without your precious anchor." 

"What's your part in it? What's a vessel?" 

Sampson smiled. "What else empties a well? I'll carry power to Corypheus. One more task entrusted to me. Being force fed Chantry lyrium was good for something. This armor makes me a living fortress—mind and body. I won't forget a word of the well's knowledge. Corypheus will be unstopable." 

“I don't have time for this,” Arames said. His ears were ringing and it felt like someone was playing drums in his head. He reached for the rune Dagna crafted from the last of poor Maddox's tools. 

Sampson's armor glowed red. "This is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. But it's a new world now, with a new God." 

Arames held the rune aloft and grimaced in pain. “Let's see how strong you are without your armor.” 

The rune flashed. Sampson screamed. Cassandra sprinted past with her shield out front.   
======================   
“Strong,” Varric said. His nose was bleeding badly. “The answer is still very strong.” 

“Is it broken?” Cassandra asked. 

“Probably. It's been broken before Seeker. It adds to my rugged charm. What about your shoulder?” 

Cassandra’s shield arm hung limp at her side. Dislocated, most likely. 

“I'll live.” She answered. 

They hobbled up the hill to the Well of Sorrows. Abelas gave in and would not destroy the well. Arames fixed Abelas with a hard stare. 

“So anyone who drinks from it will be under Mythal's control?” 

“I do not fear some forgotten God. I am willing to pay the cost,” Morrigan had insisted. 

"You are not worthy— " Abelas retorted 

Arames rubbed his temples. 

“You know, I am getting pretty tired of everyone acting like they know better than me when it comes to who is better suited or knows more about Elven history. I do not care what part of the Fade you went to, or what old book you've studied. Stop acting like I'm not Dalish. It's insulting.” 

His companions remained silent. The drumming in his head continued. Arames finally fixed his eyes on the strange woman who helped stop the blight. 

“Morrigan, you knew the Hero of Fereldan, did you not?” 

“I did.” 

“You don't talk about her.” 

“She was a friend,” Morrigan got a faraway look in her eyes. “In truth, I did not know of friendship before I knew her. She was as a sister to me.” 

“She trusted you.” 

“Verily.” 

“Then I will do the same. I am not willing to pay the price, whatever it may be. I do not want to lose my mind. The well is yours.” 

Arames only remembered seeing Corypheus and running through the Eluvian after the others. He stumbled out and fainted in Dorian's arms.


	19. Chapter 19

He awoke in the infirmary. Dorian was asleep in a chair next to his bed. Cassandra was snoring softly in the next bed, her arm taped to her chest. Past her was Varric. His face was bruised but otherwise he seemed no worse for the wear. He waved at Arames. 

“Welcome back.” 

“How long has it been?” 

“A few hours.” 

“Any news?” 

Varric frowned and shook his head. “Dorian sent word back to Ruffles that we made it back here, of all places.” 

“Leliana will send word soon, then.” 

Dorian stirred. “Oh, you're awake,” he smiled and stretched. “How is your head?” 

“Better.” 

“Your sister believes that it was a reaction to the proximity to Corypheus and that orb.” 

“Does she now?” 

“She's been helping me with research of your symptoms. I fear what the long-term effects may be…” 

Dorian trailed off. 

“I'll be fine, Dorian.” 

“You don't know that.” He whispered. 

“Arames! You're awake!” Izzy called out. She wore a simple white healer’s uniform and had her hair braided and pinned above her head. She leapt onto his bed and hugged him. 

“I swear you've grown a foot in the last two weeks!” He kissed her forehead. 

“You should see Atish’an, his horns have come in. Dennet is teaching me how to ride him. How is your nose, Varric?” 

“Better. Whatever paste you used works wonders.” 

Izzy beamed. She looked back at Arames. “A whole flock of Ravens arrived a few minutes ago. I was going to go to the Rookery to check on them.” 

“Who’s managing the spy network while Leliana is in the Arbor Wilds?” 

“Harding.” 

“Go. Bring back some quills and parchments and—“ 

Izzy rolled her eyes. 

“I'll just get your bag. You left it in your room.” 

And she ran out the door. 

She was back ten minutes later with a stack of parchments and scrolls. 

“They're still sorting them out, but I grabbed as many as I could before they saw me.” 

“Maker’s breath,” Dorian muttered. 

“Divide and conquer?” Arames handed a stack to Dorian, Varric, and Izzy. 

They sat quietly. 

“Well, Blackwall says they Grey Wardens had no issues with the Venatori, so that's something,” Dorian offered. 

Izzy let out a low whistle. Something she had picked up from Iron Bull. 

“Someone told Vivienne about Morrigan’s ability to shape shift. She is NOT happy. Guess that means no one will teach me.” 

“Ask Morrigan to teach you,” Arames said absently, concentrating on the numbers Josephine had listed in her impossibly tiny script. Dorian coughed. Arames looked up. “What?” 

“Ask Morrigan? Are you mad!?” 

“Relax, Dorian, I was only joking,” Izzy mumbled. 

”Congratulations, you've officially graduated from big brother to mother, Sparkles.” 

Dorian made a frustrated noise and picked up another letter. 

“Varric?" Arames, called, "could you wake Cassandra up? For some bizarre reason Josephine has sent the reports of the numbers from the battle but I cannot make heads or tails of it. Maybe she could?” 

“Let me see—“ Izzy studied the parchment. Arames grabbed a letter and immediately recognized Krem’s handwriting. He had read enough of the Chargers reports. 

“Finally—“ 

“Shit!” Varric yelled. He looked at Arames. 

“What is it, Varric?” Izzy asked. Varric shook his head and held out a parchment. Dorian walked over and took it. He read it briefly, and then gasped. He stared at Izzy. 

“Andraste preserve me,” he whispered. 

“Dorian, what is it?” Arames grew alarmed. 

“I—I am so sorry, Amatus.” 

He handed Arames the note with a quivering hand. Arames began to read it with Izzy hovering over his shoulder.

 

_Nightingale,_

_Final tally at the front will take hours, but we've sorted through the wounded in front of the temple. All told we've lost at least 50 souls, most of whom we can identify, thank the Maker. There's at least another 100 injured. Of those we may lose a good handful.  
As you know the Red Templars rushed from the South and cut you off. The Chargers did their job and only lost two men. Two others are badly injured, including Iron Bull. But they cut a path for the reinforcements. How Constable Blackwall made it to the waterfall is beyond me, but it turned the tide. _

_The good news is that without their General the Red Templars fell apart and were cut down to the last man. We've got a few troops pursuing any deserters as we speak. We've already sent all the healers out, and the Commander’s mixed military units likely account for the lowered casualty rate._

_Now for the bad news. We found the Commander. He was pinned under the body of a Red Templar Behemoth. It is unclear if he was infected by the Red Lyrium. Madame De Fer is overseeing his care. But he is gravely injured. We have not been able to locate the Inquisitor's sister. Some of the Charger’s have volunteered to search the area. We have conflicting reports, but she was injured fighting the same Templar monster that nearly felled Cullen, and you know he'd never leave Ishana’s side willingly._

_I gave this to Jim, hopefully he attaches it to the correct bird this time. Harding, if you get this send it back to Nightingale at the main camp and know we need supplies sent down here. We won't be moving many of the injured for weeks._

_If you're feeling up for a challenge maybe you can find a way of telling the Inquisitor his sister is most likely dead._

_Charter_


	20. Chapter 20

Izzy let out a sob and ran from the Infirmary. Dorian started to follow her. 

“Let her go,” Arames whispered, grabbing Dorian’s hand. 

“Amatus, I am so sorry.” 

Arames crumpled to the ground. Dorian knelt at his side and Arames curled into his lap. He was beyond tears. 

“It's my fault,” he whispered. 

“No it isn't,” Dorian stroked his hair and sniffled. 

“Yes, it is. We took our time in the Temple. Creators, I killed my own sister!” 

He felt Varric’s hand on his shoulder. 

“You don't know that—“ Varric muttered and picked up the stack of parchments. 

“What are you doing?” Dorian demanded. 

“I'm going to see if we got news. Good or bad—these are all out of order. We don't know when Charter wrote that.” 

Arames looked up at Dorian. “Do you think it is possible?” 

Dorian looked doubtful. Arames began to perk up. 

“I'd know if Shana was dead. I'd just know. She can't be…” 

“Come, Amatus. Come, stand up.” 

Arames sat on the edge of the bed and stared blankly ahead. It was eerily quiet. Dorian pressed his face into Arames’ shoulder. After several minutes Varric called out. 

“Here's something—“ 

Varric thrust a note into Arames’ hands. Krem's familiar writing came into focus. 

_Your worship—_

_Apologies for my informality, I don't have much time._

_Chief is injured pretty bad but he will pull through. Took out two of those Red Templar Giants on his own, though. The idiot._

_Cullen's in rough shape, he got trapped under a Behemoth until Chief and I pushed it off him. He's delirious and had to get tied down so Lady Vivienne could work on him. They all think it's red lyrium poisoning. But I don’t think that's the issue. I think it's because the last thing he saw was your sister being thrown into a tree by some asshole red Templar. Then he wakes up and we tell him she's missing.  
They don't want to tell you this-- _

_Dalish and Skinner found your sister. Stiches is working on her. It's touch and go. She lost a lot of blood._

_I'll write more later. Jim got other orders but is sending Baron Plucky back to Skyhold, maybe you'll get this._

_Krem_


	21. Chapter 21

Arames let out a breath and fell back on the bed. His headache was back.

“Too much stress. Please rest, Amatus. I will let you know about any developments, and I'll go find Izzy.” 

Dorian kissed Arames’ forehead. Arames nodded, his vision clouding. He didn't remember falling asleep.  
=====================  
He dreamt he was back with his Clan. He heard the Halla bleating and inhaled the familiar scent of the dry pine needles that carpeted the ground. He walked to a cooking fire. Izzy ran by, wet from a swim and laughing.

“Arames! You're here! Shana, Arames is here!”

“Shana?”

He looked at his sister, her hair tied in a loose braid that fell past her shoulder. She was tanned and healthy, her eyes a deep emerald green. He then noticed her face. She still had her Vallaslin.

“This isn't real, is it?”

Ishana shook her head. She smiled, sadly. “Izzy found me. Brought me here.”

Izzy slid under Arames’ arm and gave him a hug. He kissed the top of her head.

“You didn't tell me you can manipulate the Fade.”

“Dorian gave me some books.”

“Did he now? This is dangerous magic, Izzy.”

He sat by the fire and Izzy sat at his feet. He began to comb his fingers through her hair. The three of them. With a pang he thought of his father. Ishana pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

“How bad is it?” He asked.

“I'm sorry, Arames. You were right.”

“Does it hurt, Shana?” Izzy asked, her voice small and soft. A nug wandered into her lap and she scratched it behind the ears.

Ishana shook her head. “It did. You fixed that too.” She looked up at her brother and smiled. 

“The scar under your eye, it's gone.”

Arames felt his cheek. The now familiar gash was missing. And then, it wasn't.

“I'm sorry, Arames.” Izzy whispered.

“You don't like the scar?”

“I don't like reminders that you could die, just like Ada. Or Mamae. I like remembering us before I ruined everything.”

“You didn't ruin anything, little Halla,” Ishana cooed. “Arames would have left no matter what.”

“Truly, Arames?”

Arames hesitated. He looked down at Izzy. Her large, wide set eyes brimming with tears. He looked at Ishana, the Vallaslin gone. Izzy changed it back. 

“I would have stayed for you.”

“Then I'm glad things happened the way they did. Even if we die.”

“Izzy, no one is dying,” Ishana said.

“You are,” Arames shot back. Ishana looked stunned. Suddenly blood started to seep from a wound in her chest, her face became mottled with cuts and bruises. She staggered into Arames’ lap.

“Shana!” He cried.

Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. Izzy scowled. The nug burrowed into her lap and made a pitiful squeaking noise.

“Shana, please pull through,” Arames begged. “You're my other half. I can't imagine life without you.”

“Please, Shana,” Izzy cried.

“It's going to be alright, little Halla. If I live, I will see you soon. If I die, Falon’Din will take me to see Mamae and Ada.”  
Izzy sniffled. Arames stroked Ishana’s face. She closed her eyes and disappeared. 

“Shana!?” Arames cried. 

The wolf howled again, mirroring Arames’ anguish.

“The dread wolf take you!” She screamed out into the void. Izzy stood up and marched towards that source. The nug scampered off into the woods.

Arames stood to follow her. But the trees closed around him.

“Izzy!” He screamed. “Ysabelle you come back right now!”

“I'm sorry, Arames—this is between me and Fen’Harel.”

He felt someone grab his shoulders. He turned but saw no one.

“Vishante kafass, wake up!” 

Arames looked around. 

“Dorian?”

He felt something pull him.

And he woke up.  
==================  
Dorian was shaking Arames’ shoulders, their faces inches apart.

“Arames!”

Arames blinked and massaged his temples.

“Creators, Dorian. Don't shout.”

“Fasta vass, I come back to find you half dead and you expect me to keep my voice down!?”

Dorian flopped down in the chair near Arames’ head, scowling. 

“I was just sleeping.”

“We couldn't wake you,” Cassandra’s face came into focus at the foot of his bed. 

“Sparkles was convinced you'd had an aneurism.”

Dorian glared at Arames, who met his stare.

“Someone gave my sister books about Fade walkers,” he said cooly.

Guilt passed across Dorian's face, but his curiosity got the better of him. “She did it? She actually managed to manipulate the Fade? So she is a sominari…”

“Who did what?” Cassandra demanded. Arames turned to the Seeker.

“I was with my sisters, in the Fade. Dorian's been teaching Izzy behind my back.”

“It was a purely theoretical conversation!” Dorian retorted. 

"Then don't complain when you can't rouse me." Arames shot back. "Creators, do you know how dangerous that is, Dorian?"

"How is your head?" Cassandra asked.

"It's been better...any news from the South?'

Cassandra shook her head. "It will be some time before we learn anything."

Arames folded his arms around his chest. He thought of Ishana dying or dead to the south, and Ysabelle trapped in the Fade chasing the Dread Wolf. He couldn't stand to be around anyone. "I want to sleep in my own bed. I'm FINE, thank you." He stood up and marched back to his room. Dorian followed. Arames stood by the fireplace and looked over at Dorian. "When were you going to tell me?"

Dorian froze. Irritation, and confusion crossed his face within moments. “She just asked some questions. Hawke told her about an elf they met in Kirkwall a number of years ago, and Izzy wanted to know what she'd learn in a Tevinter Circle.”

“So you gave her a book on how to manipulate the Fade?”

Arames wasn't even sure why he was harping on about this. He knew Izzy didn't need anyone's help or permission to do anything, especially when she set her mind to something. But she certainly did not need encouragement. 

“I did no such thing!” Dorian stamped his foot and paced the floor. “We just—she was curious about alternative theories regarding the Fade. I gave her some. She even talked to Solas for a moment but her questions unnerved him.”

“And you hid this from me.”

“I didn't mean to—“

Arames held up his hand.

“She asked you not to tell me, didn't she?”

Dorian sighed and nodded. “She told me she would tell you, when she was ready.”

"And you chose to keep it from me anyway."

"Amatus, I—" 

Arames felt his headache return. It got worse when he was angry. His mark hummed and a dull pain echoed through his forearm. “You know what happened today, don’t you? She ran off after someone or something in the Fade. She's staying there.”

“But that would mean…” Dorian’s voice trailed off and his face lined with guilt. “It was just a theoretical conversation. I don't know how to do it…”

Arames sat on the edge of the bed. “Dorian, I can’t do it,” he whispered. 

Dorian’s eyes widened. Arames made a dismissive gesture. “No, not that. I just…I've taken care of Izzy since, well, forever. And my trip to the Conclave was the first time I didn't have Ishana at my side. If I lose both of them…”

Dorian sat next to Arames and took his hand.

“Amatus—“

“Don't.”

“You are being awfully grim and fatalistic. It's not like you.”

Arames shrugged. 

“Will you at least try to eat something? You haven't since yesterday.”

Arames laid back on his bed and curled into a ball. Silence filled the room like a heavy fog.


	22. Chapter 22

_Lieutenant Aclassi—_

_I don't know what is going on down South, but it is not helping matters at Skyhold. The Inquisitor is being told nothing and all letters are being diverted to The Arbor Wilds. His younger sister has been missing for two days, where she has holed herself up Maker only knows._

_Send me news, I beg of you. The Inquisitor has stopped eating and I cannot watch him waste away in front of my eyes._

_Dorian Pavus_

_===========================================================================_

_Dorian,_

_We are still sifting through the chaos and tending to the wounded, the Inquisitor’s sister amongst them. We will send word when we have something to tell you._

_The first of the soldiers will return within the next few days. Duke Cyril will also be visiting Skyhold next week. Hopefully some familiar faces will cheer the Inquisitor up._

_Ambassador Josephine Montilyet_


	23. Chapter 23

Arames still looked hopeful whenever Dorian entered his chambers. His cheeks were sunken and he had circles under his impossibly light green eyes. He spent most of his time in a catatonic state by his fireplace, oblivious to the food or drink. He did not sleep that Dorian could tell, and made no efforts to search the grounds for Ishana. '

"That girl could give Cole lessons in disappearing." Dorian complained to Arames. He had tried pleading, yelling, bargaining, but nothing moved his lover. He had finally just accepted that Arames was in shock, and tried to fill the chasm that had grown between them. 

So Dorian would sit and read next to Arames, sometimes aloud, mostly in silence. He said nothing about the trays of untouched food and felt his heart break a little more when he would round the steps and see Arames perk up for a moment, with the hopes that there was some news. But there wasn't any.

On the tenth night Dorian sat reading, one hand holding his book, the other outstretched in the armrest. That was when he felt it: Arames’ bony fingers slip between his. Dorian looked up, startled at the sudden contact. Arames said nothing. He stared at the fire. Dorian squeezed his hand, gently. Arames squeezed back. 

_Hey Boss,_

_Finally got my hands on some paper. Sera said she'd get this to you through her own network. Red’s keeping a lid on everything._

_Long story short: we got cut off from reinforcements and only a handful of men were there to defend the temple. You almost lost your Commander, sister, and me in one shitty, shitty afternoon. As it stands I'm fine and coming back to Skyhold in a few days. Cullen finally recovered from his injuries (those withdrawals are no joke, Boss. It was hard to watch)._

_That's why all the secrecy. They had to keep Cullen away from the troops and make sure word didn't get out that the commander was puking his guts out and yelling at the walls. Now he just won't talk to anyone and spends all his time with your sister as she convalesces._

_It was bad, but Stiches thinks she'll pull through. Got clawed up something awful, but the bruising is better. She looks worse than she is, so I'm told. But it looks pretty terrible, so I don't know._

_See you in a few,_

_Bull_


	24. Chapter 24

Dorian almost cried when Varric handed him the parchment. He ran up the stairs and found Arames standing at the balcony, the sunshine lighting the red and golden streaks in his brown hair, which fell over his ears and threatened to spill down his neck. Dorian coughed and Arames turned, his face gaunt and haunted, but he saw the paper in Dorian's hand.

“Amatus…” Dorian started, only to have Arames fling himself into Dorian's arms. They stood there for several minutes, reveling in one another's embrace. Finally, Arames stepped back and reached for the parchment.

“Is she—am I…” He whispered.

“She's alive, Amatus. As is Cullen. She's going to pull through.”

Arames sank into his chair and read the letter over and over. He finally smiled.

“Izzy—“

“She's holed up somewhere but alive. Cole should be back soon and he can help find her. Enough food has gone missing from the kitchen to indicate she's still eating.”

Arames nodded. 

“Amatus, now that we know—“

“You want me to eat something, don't you?”

Dorian nodded. Arames sighed.

“Very well. If it will give you some comfort.”   
==========================

The soldiers and Arames’ close friends returned in dribs and drabs over the course of a few weeks. Cole, Sera, and Blackwall arrived with the first of the returning troops. Cole found Izzy easily and she begrudgingly returned to her studies at the Circle and Infirmary. But not before Dorian lectured her at length on her behavior and responsible use of magic. Blackwall immediately pulled Arames into training to gain back what muscle he had lost over the course of his hunger strike.

The Infirmary filled up quickly with the returning soldiers, and Cassandra started running drills for those healthy enough to train. She was a sight to behold with her shoulder in a sling and a sword waving in her free hand. Josephine and Leliana arrived the day before the Chargers. Ravens began to fly out of the tower again, bringing with it a sense of normalcy.

Dorian continued to correspond with Maevarius in earnest, his letters filled with pages of ideas, suggestions, and what he had learned in the Temple of Mythal. Arames would fall asleep, book in hand as Dorian squinted in the dim candlelight, the sound of his quill the only noise in the still dark room. 

Finally Cullen arrived; ten pounds thinner and pale, the tremor in his hand returned. He smiled when Arames met him at the gates and gestured behind him. Arames burst into tears when he finally saw his sister. Cullen helped her down off her horse, and she flew into Arames’ outstretched arms. They stood there for several minutes.

“I thought I'd lost you, Shana. When you disappeared…”

“I know, Arames. I’m so sorry.”

Cullen coughed and tapped Ishana on the shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Shana, the healers said you needed to be examined when we arrived.”

Ishana nodded and leaned heavily on Cullen as they walked across the courtyard. Arames followed them into the infirmary. Cullen excused himself, promising to return after meeting with Cassandra. When he was out of earshot Arames gave his sister a stern look.

“What?” She asked.

“He called you Shana.”

“Did he?” Color rose into her cheeks.

“So you've made up your mind?”

She looked out the window. A healer came by and began to examine her. Pausing only when she saw Arames. She looked at Ishana.

“It's okay. He can see.” She kept staring out the window.

The healer fixed Arames with a stern look and pulled off Ishana's tunic. She was bandaged on her right side from her shoulder to her hip and on the side of her neck. Then she removed the bandage. Arames worried he would be sick. He said nothing.

Deep wide scabs littered her torso. Claw marks, he realized. They were red and the skin was still inflamed. The cuts had been through to the bone. 

“How is your breathing?” The healer asked. She scribbled notes in a pad as she continued her examination.

“Better,” Ishana looked over at her brother.

“And the dizziness?”

“Comes and goes.”

“That will take some time. As will the fatigue. It takes time to recover from that much blood loss.”

Ishana nodded. The healer began to slather a dark green paste on her wounds and wrapped a new bandage around her torso and shoulder and left them alone.

“You've decided, then?” Arames asked again.

Ishana nodded. She pulled a small coin out and showed it to Arames.

“He gave this to me. A gift from his brother before joining the Templar Order. For luck. This is after he rambled for several minutes about how he knows it's improper for Dalish to give gifts before they are bound but he couldn't wait any longer. Did you give him that lecture?”

Arames shook his head. Ishana laughed and made the coin roll up and down her knuckle.

“Izzy, huh?”

“She didn't want Cullen to embarrass himself while you were with Solas.”

Ishana frowned. “It was real, what we had.”

“I know.”

“Am I terrible, for moving on?”

“I don't think so. It's been months.”  
“Could you walk away from Dorian so easily?”

Arames had no answer. It would have been no, weeks ago. But that was before Dorian gave Ysabelle books and kept it a secret and started to converse with Maevaris in earnest. He watched Cullen’s gift roll up and down along the top of her hand. “You have a chance to be happy, Ishana. Take it.”

They were interrupted by a gentle cough. Cullen had returned.

“Inquisitor, I will see you in the war room tomorrow,” he turned and his voice softened considerably, “Ishana, are you hungry? I thought we might…I had food sent to my office…” He scratched the back of his neck.

“That sounds nice, Cullen. Arames, ir abelas…”

“Ar lath ma, lethallan. Good night Cullen. It is good to have you back.”

“Good evening, Inquisitor.”


	25. Chapter 25

Dorian was writing when Arames returned. He watched Arames sink into the couch and pull off his boots.

“I've been thinking,” Dorian started.

“Grey”, Arames muttered.

“What?”

“Your eyes. They are grey. Not like a blue grey. Darker. Rather the color of a storm cloud in the summer.” Arames pulled his shirt off and stood, wearing only his leather trousers. He smiled over at Dorian. “It's taken me months to figure it out.”

“Amatus…” Dorian leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

“You were thinking?” Arames prompted.

“I've been thinking, that, I should go back, shouldn't I? To Tevinter. Once this is done...if we're still alive. All this talk about how terribly wrong things are at home but what do I do about it? Nothing."

Arames froze. His stomach dropped and he sank to his knees. 

“You would just leave? What about—” He could feel the color leave his face. He was going to be sick. Dorian ran over and knelt by his side.

"Us? Trust me Amatus. It would give me no pleasure to leave your side. But...you make monumental decisions affecting the entire world. How can I not consider some of my own?"

Arames leaned into Dorian’s chest. He smelled of sandalwood and old books and ink. "Why don't I go with you?"

"Take you away from all this? I can't ask that of you." 

"You don't have to ask. I'm offering."

"Tempting, but we both know you'll end up doing it all yourself. As much as watching my homeland be beaten into submission would amuse me, this is something that I need to do. "

"But I need you at my side, now more than ever." 

Dorian frowned. "Emotional blackmail is a fine thing to pull out of your arsenal."

"But I didn't—" 

"I was joking. I'll think on it. Closely." 

Arames blinked away tears. 

“So after Corypheus you'll go?”

“I—Maevaris has been a lone voice in the Magisterium but our movement is gaining traction. There is only so much I can do from afar.”

“So you'll do it? Succeed your father in the Magisterium? Become Archon? After everything, you'll go back?”

“No one is talking about that. But if the Lucerni is to have any chance of success we need to be organized. Maevaris is only one woman.”

Arames stood up and stumbled over to the balcony. The wind whipped at his hair, which had begun to hang in front of his eyes. It would be autumn soon. Over a year since he left his clan. Since the Conclave. Dorian wrapped his arms around Arames’ bare chest.

"This is your fault, remember. You've inspired me with your marvelous antics. You're shaping the world, for good or ill. How could I aspire to do any less? If it means proving that Tevinter could be better. That there's hope even for my homeland? I would do anything." 

“You never answered my question,” Arames whispered.

“What question?”

“When I asked you to stay. In the Emerald Graves, before I got these,” Arames gestured at the two scars on his torso. “Saving your life. But I guess you've finally answered it.”

Arames slid out from Dorian’s embrace and grabbed his shirt. 

“Where are you going?” Dorian demanded.

Arames did not answer. He pulled his shirt back over his head and ran, barefoot, down the stairs. 

===========================================================================

He traveled for the next two months. He discovered ancient Elven temples dedicated to Dirthamen across the Waking Sea, discovered Lindiranae's talisman in the Shrine of Sylaise in the Dirthavaren, and explored the Din'an Hanin down in the Emerald Graves. Ishana would read the letters her brother sent back aloud at the tavern, and shared the piles of his sketches intended for Ysabelle with the other members of the Inquisition. 

Autumn had passed and frost began to linger past dawn at Skyhold. And still Arames did not return. Dorian's letters went unanswered, while Maevaris had new names to add to the growing Lucerni faction. No one of note, not yet. She asked when Dorian might return to help with recruitment. He sat in the tavern, an empty parchment his only response so far.  
Then the bells tolled and Sera whooped and flew down the stairs. It only meant one thing: the Inquisitor had finally returned. 

There was a crowd to receive him at the gates. Ysabelle stood with Atishan, both significantly taller than when they had first arrived at Skyhold. Ishana, now out of her bandages and mostly healed, stood next to Cullen. Arames glanced back at Solas when he saw his sister and the Commander standing next to one another. A flicker of pain for a moment and then nothing.   
Arames scanned the crowd. He saw Sera, smiling and waving what he hoped was a cookie. Bull stood behind her. Arames wave at them. Bull smiled and waved back, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. So he was still angry at him. But no sign of Dorian. 

He was quickly dragged into a meeting with his advisors in the War Room. Morrigan had begun to make sense of the endless voices that the well had bestowed upon her. She had finally stopped speaking Elvish at random points in the conversation. In his absence Ysabelle had been used as a translator and befriended Kieran, Morrigan’s strange son. But still no sign of Corypheus. Even Leliana was running out of ideas. Josephine, however, continued to look forward. And as such there were numerous meetings that Arames would need to attend since he returned. Cullen seemed as eager to end the meeting as Arames, waving off Leliana’s teasing as he ran out of the room when dismissed.

Arames stopped by to see Varric on his way to the library, but Dorian wasn't in his usual spot. Disappointed, Arames climbed the stairs to his chambers.

The room felt more lived in, for certain. Dorian had made some improvements that Arames did appreciate, such as the soft woven silk rugs on the floor and the heavy curtains on the balcony windows that helped keep in the heat from the fireplace.

The room was dark, save one or two candles above the bed and the embers in the fireplace. Dorian had made use of Arames’ desk in his absence: it was covered in quills and parchments, a well worn blotter, and a flask of sweet wine. Arames poured himself a glass, unlocked a drawer in his desk, and placed a stack of papers from his rucksack. 

“I forgot how handsome you look in low light.”

Arames felt his stomach drop. He looked up. 

“Dorian?”

He stood on the balcony, a glass of wine in his hands. He was exactly as Arames remembered him. And somehow he had grown more handsome over the past ten weeks. Dorian turned to face Arames and swayed. He had been drinking for some time. 

“Is this the part where I make a scene? Do I stomp my feet and yell? Or is that your job? I'm not sure what the protocol is in our situation.”

Arames joined Dorian on the balcony. 

“It was not too long ago that we stood on a different balcony,” Arames replied, resting his glass on the railing. 

“I recall.”

“That was the first time you held me close to you. The first time you did not pull away from my touch. And now…”

Arames turned to face his lover. Dorian's face was splotched and his eyes were bloodshot. He had been crying, hence the dim lights and skulking on the balcony. And still, Arames would never tire of Dorian's face. The strong lines of his jaw and neck, his powerful shoulders and chest, his full lips and the soft hair of his mustache. The comforting smell of amber and sandalwood, mixed with ink and wax and old books. Arames reached out and touched Dorian's cheek, gently. Dorian stiffened, but did not pull away.

"What are we doing? Dorian? What is our situation?"

"Fasta vaas, you ask me? You are gone for months with no word. You—"

"—left, I know. It was foolish. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? That's it?"

"What more can I say? I asked you to stay with me and you say no."

"I didn't say no!" Dorian stamped his foot, his anger finally boiling over. "I cannot stand about on the sidelines. Doing nothing to save my homeland. I thought you would understand that."

"Why? Dorian, I am not trying to change the world, I'm trying to survive. That's all I've ever done. When you said you wanted to leave me—"

"Maker's breath Arames, I don't want to leave you. But I have a chance to reshape Tevinter. I can't let it just pass by." 

"So you really are willing to pay any price?"

"What are you saying?"

Arames bit his lip as tears leaked out the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to cry. It felt as though that was all he had done over the last few weeks. Tears of sadness and of pain. Of loneliness. And anger.

"Is it worth it to break my heart?"

Dorian drew a sharp breath. He scowled and studied the horizon, his very body radiating heat. Arames had no fight left. His shoulders slumped and he walked back into the bedroom, throwing himself into the overstuffed armchair by the fire. He studied the embers and his mark flared slightly. He shook his hand and it faded, the ache traveling up his arm. He heard a glass break on the balcony and a series of Tevene curses. Dorian swept into the room and rounded on him.

"You do not play fair. You leave me for weeks with no contact and then somehow I am the one breaking hearts? You—"

Dorian trailed off. Arames’ face was pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

"What is it?"

Arames shook his head. "It's nothing, Dorian. The mark has just been more unstable these past few days. It is one of the reasons I came back to Skyhold."

"Oh, so that is why—" 

"The other was to apologize." 

Dorian froze. Arames groaned and stood up. Dorian held out his hands to steady his lover. 

"Amatus, what is wrong?"

Arames shook his head. 

"I came back to tell you I'm sorry, vhenan. That's the protocol. I love you and the thought of being without you breaks me into a million pieces. But I'd rather that then not have you. I—"

Dorian kissed him, cutting his apology off before it even got started. Arames melted into Dorian's embrace and, for a moment, forgot the pain in his arm.


	26. Chapter 26

The morning light poured in through the curtains they neglected to close the night before. The servants said nothing of the clothing strewn about the room. One simply placed the heavy tray on the desk while the other quietly folded the clothes and placed them on the couch in a neat pile. There was nothing but gentle snoring from the pile of blankets and furs on the bed.

The scent of warm pastries and coffee soon pulled them from their slumber. Arames climbed out of bed first and pulled on a pair of cotton trousers that someone had left nearby. He poured two cups of coffee, putting a small amount of cream and a bit of sugar into one of the mugs. He then ate three buttered rolls before carrying a sweet roll back to the bed.

"Vhenan..."

Somewhere from the pile of blankets a gruff voice responded.

"I'm still angry at you. For the record."

"Noted. I am happy to apologize as many times as you need me to." 

Dorian finally peaked out from under the covers. "Is that coffee I smell?"

Arames held out a cup. "Light and sweet?"

Dorian beamed up at Arames as he took a sip.

"Now," Arames snuggled next to Dorian. "Tell me about what Maevaris says about the Lucerni."

Dorian frowned. Arames rolled onto his back, his hands behind his head. 

"Look, Dorian. I hate the idea of you going back there. But it doesn't have to mean for good. You can travel between here and Tevinter. I can come to Nevarra and meet you...we can make this work. I'm not giving up that easily. So...tell me what you're thinking."

Dorian broke into a wide grin and started talking. 

==========================================================================

The first of the snow fell some weeks later. Arames and Ysabelle were moving several of the less hardy plants to the covered area of the garden. Ysabelle had an idea for a greenhouse that might attach to the back end of the infirmary, allowing the healers access to essential herbs year round. 

"I mean, dried elfroot is helpful, but it takes twice as much to generate a halfway decent poultice. With fresh cuts, we can do much more." 

Arames marveled at her. She had grown several inches since she arrived at Skyhold, her blonde hair had darkened to a golden honey color which she wore braided and pinned around her temples. Her body had started to fill out, reminding him that she was a woman, now. She no longer rode on anyone's shoulders. She still had nightmares but they did not seem to trickle into her waking hours. Atisha'an was now full grown and followed her around the castle grounds. He helped pull some of the heavier pots in a small wagon across the grounds. 

"You can talk to Ser Morris—" he said. Ishana cut him off.

"Blackwall and I already did. He still thinks I'm mad at him because he's not a Grey Warden even though I've known for a while."

"Hang on, you knew? How?"

"I'm a Fade walker, Arames. I didn't mean to stumble into his dreams. Cole was trying to help and I followed him—"

"Wait. Cole?" 

"He hides, but now that he's human he dreams."

"The nug."

Ysabelle nodded. 

"Do you need my permission?"

"I put in a requisition order for the lumber and the glass."

"I'll take a look at it."

Leliana interrupted them.

"Inquisitor! It's Morrigan—Kieran ran through the Eluvian and she went after him. You must go after her! I'll get help."

"Kieran!" Ysabelle yelled, and took off toward the small cloister rooms off the garden where the Eluvian was stored. 

"Izzy, no!" Arames ran after her. 

"But—" 

"I'll go—you get—"

"Solas and Dorian. I know." She jumped on Atishan's shoulders and took off across the grounds. 

Arames felt his hand go through the mirror. 

"Can't I just have a normal day for once?" He muttered, and then stepped through. 

=========================

It was unclear who looked more in shock as they returned through the Eluvian and walked into the snow covered garden. 

Leliana stood with Cullen, Ishana, Dorian, Solas, and Ysabelle. Several soldiers stood in the garden, and Sera had climbed onto the roof with her bow and arrows in case 'something creepy came through.'

Arames forgot that Morrigan and Leliana had known each other going on a decade. When Kieran walked out first he flew into Izzy's outstretched arms. Morrigan stood, pale and trembling. Leliana escorted her old friend out of the room. Kieran held Izzy's hand and followed. 

"Inquisitor, what happened?" Cullen was the first to break the silence. 

Arames shook his head as if to clear it.

"I don't really know. We went into the Fade—"

"You WHAT?!" Dorian shouted. Ishana hissed at him to be quiet and punched his arm. 

"But that Eluvian does not go to the Fade," Solas muttered, studying it closely. "It goes to what Morrigan refers to as the Crossroads." 

"It did. Kieran changed it."

"Kieran—" Cullen snorted and dismissed the soldiers stationed in the garden. He stood in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. "It was Morrigan, wasn't it?"

Arames shook his head. He touched the vallaslin markings near his eyes.

"I—we, met...Mythal."

Ishana's eyes widened and Arames could feel Solas tense behind him. He then explained what happened after he entered the Eluvian.

========================

That night Arames sat in his chair by the fireplace, his feet resting on a cushioned stool Dorian had commissioned, which meant that Arames was more likely to fall asleep reading than ever before. Dorian was at the desk, furiously scribbling yet another missive to Maevaris. 

The mark flared, filling the room with an eerie green light. Arames hissed with pain and shook his hand. Dorian put his quill down.

"Do you want to talk about today?" He asked.

Arames shrugged. "Don't know what to say. Met a god who pulled another god's soul out of a young boy in the Fade after walking through an enchanted Ancient Elven Mirror. Or, as I like to call it, Wednesday."

Dorian poured two glasses of sherry and handed one to Arames before he sat down in his armchair. He said nothing. Arames kept talking.

"You know Varric actually thinks I've been sent by the Maker?"

"Is that so?"

"Yep. Apparently too much weird shit keeps happening to me that it has to be the only explanation." 

"Today, for example."

"You realize, Dorian, that Andraste was probably some well meaning woman who ended up the figurehead of a rebellion. They killed her for it.”

"Well, you aren't going to share her fate."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Arames stared into the fire.

"Amatus?"

"Everything we've been taught has been a lie. You must feel it too, no? To know that Tevinter did not conquer Arlathan, that the elves destroyed themselves. That it was a Magister who entered the Black City..."

"To wonder if your gods did exist."

"Or if they were gods in the first place. Think of Andraste. The bride of the Maker. There is an entire religion based off of the life and death of one woman. Solas called the Dalish legends of the Gods and Arlathan children's stories. Maybe he's right."

"What are you on about, Arames?"

"I just...I want my story to be true...I don't want to get lost in all this."

"What makes you think that will happen?"

"Without you, Dorian. Without you I am lost." 

Arames knelt and rested his head on Dorian's lap. Dorian traced the faint markings on his lover's face. Arames' hair had grown long enough to hang over his eyes and dust his shoulders. Dorian ran his fingers through the thick dark auburn locks. 

"Well, I am here now," Dorian whispered. Hoping that would be enough.


	27. Chapter 27

They were on hour four in the War Room. Arames had finally agreed to sit down after his headache had returned with a vengeance. Cullen had cursed at the map twice, while Josephine had run out of options. Allies can only provide so much support when your enemy has disappeared.

“He has a blighted dragon!” Cullen finally yelled. “How do you hide an Archdemon?”

Leliana scowled. It was rare for her to have no information.

And then, in the distance above the mountains, an explosion. A new tear in the veil, larger and more unstable than the first. White hot pain shot through Arames’ arm and the pressure in his temple increased tenfold. He stumbled to his knees.

“It seems Corypheus is not content to wait,” Morrigan noted.

“He is in Haven,” Leliana whispered.

Cullen studied the hole in the sky through the window. “We have no army to send…”

“And no allies who can arrive in time…” Josephine rifled through her stack of parchments.

“No, it is better this way. It's just him and me.”

Arames stood up and leaned against the table. He looked over at Morrigan. She nodded.

“The Well has provided answers. I can match Corypheus’ dragon.” 

In the back of his mind Arames recalled Hawke telling Bull about the attack on Lothering. The Hero of Ferelden had stumbled into the town after the battle of Ostagar, much like Hawke and her brother. That was where the Hero had found Leliana and freed a Qunari who was now Arishock. But Darkspawn were upon the town when Hawke arrived. They were overpowered until a Dragon saved Hawke from an Ogre. Much like the dragon who had pulled the Hero and King Alistair from battle. The dragon had been Flemeth—Mythal. Had her hands been in all of this? Moving chess pieces. Was this the Maker’s doing or hers?   
Lost in thought, he was brought back to reality by the heavy thud of the doors as they crashed against the walls.

“Where is he?!” Dorian demanded. And then he was there. Soft warm hands holding the mark as it flared. A cooling spell at his temple to relieve the pain.

“Vhenan,” Arames whispered, pressing his forehead against Dorian's bare shoulder.

“Amatus, I'm here. I'll protect you.”

“Get the others. We ride for Haven.”

Cullen and Dorian helped walk Arames to the stable. Hamin was ready and nuzzled Arames, searching for a treat. 

"I'm sorry," Arames scratched the faithful animal's soft nose. 

It took the better part of an hour to get everyone situated with the minimum number of supplies. Finally they were ready. Cullen helped Arames into his saddle. 

"Remember your training. When you’re in pain it is easy to make mistakes. Focus on technique—yours isn't half bad. And, for Andraste's sake, please let Cassandra and Blackwall stay in front of you—"

"You know, I have fought once or twice before," Arames chuckled, and then winced.

"Is it bad?"

"It’s like a direct line from my hand to my jaw and then the back of my head." 

"It will be over soon."

"One way or another. If I don't return—" 

Cullen squeezed Arames' arm in an effort to reassure his friend. 

"You will—you must. If not for the Inquisition then for them."

"But if I don't, Cullen..." 

He was having difficulty speaking. Arames wondered how he would ride for the next ten hours through the mountain pass.

"I know where they are. Dagna has made me a spare key. And we will send scouts to the last camp, as your request states."

"Thank you."

“Maker watch over you, Inquisitor.”

Iron Bull walked over with the massive black stallion Dennett had found for him. 

"We're ready, Boss. Let's kick this guy's ass."

Arames nodded, and they started for the gates. They were passing through when he heard his sister's voice.

"Arames, No!"

Ishana's screams echoed across the courtyard. Arames turned and saw Cullen holding her back. She had come outfitted to join him and fight. 

"Arames it is suicide—please! Take me with you. Don't leave me behind!”

The pain in her voice cut deeper than any blade. Arames pressed his hand to his heart and turned to ride away. Ishana screamed and continued to plead. He could hear her fighting Cullen's hold. He began to cry.

They picked up speed once they crossed the drawbridge. Hamin did his best to keep pace without unseating his rider. Eventually they stopped and Arames rode with Bull. At some point he fainted from the pain and was only roused as he was lifted off of Bull's horse. 

"Hamin," Arames mumbled.

"Dennett packed some apples, Amatus. He's fine. You need to lie down." 

"Uhh, Boss? You may need to see this."

"Bull, he needs to rest. there is no point in—oh my—"

Arames looked up. They were close to where they had camped after Corypheus attacked Haven and they fled to the mountains. Cullen's men had helped carve a path through the mountains. Arames saw Blackwall stooped by an old fire pit with Sera and Solas. But past them, behind some trees, stood—Arames gasped.

"Is that a Halla?"

"Shit, I was wondering why we didn't see her at the castle," Bull grumbled.

"She must have ridden ahead," Dorian added.

"Ir abelas, lethallan," Arames muttered. He dropped to his knees. “Sulahn'nehn, forgive me.”

“Izzo! Get out here,” Iron Bull bellowed. His voice echoed throughout the valley.

“Festis bei umo canavarum —you will cause an avalanche!” Dorian hissed.

Blackwall and Solas looked up from the fire, startled by Bull’s hollering.

Ysabelle emerged from the woods. She was dressed in her riding leathers, but, unlike her brother and sister, wore traditional Dalish footwear. Her hair billowed loose in the wind. Her eyes the terrifying blue of a sky too cold for even clouds to form. She appeared serene. But her rage became apparent as she stepped into the snow, which melted under her touch.

Atish'an scampered over to Hamin and the other horses who became uneasy at the arcane energy radiating from the young elven woman.

“You think to fight a would-be God and not tell me?” She began.

“My dear, you are grossly out of your element right now,” Vivienne chastised. “The Inquisitor—“

“No, First Enchanter. He is not just the Inquisitor. He is my world.”

Ysabelle knelt next to her brother.

“Ir abelas...ar lath ma sulahn'nehn,” Arames babbled in Elvish. Ysabelle pulled his head into her lap and soothed his forehead.

“Be still, Ada,” she whispered. Her hair billowed in the wind but no snow touched them. Then, softly, she began to sing. Over time, Arames stilled and relaxed. Dorian knelt down next to Arames.

“He needs to sleep,” he urged. Ysabelle shook her head.

“The veil is too thin. The Dread Wolf is close. It isn't safe for him to sleep.”

“Izzy,” Arames touched her face gently. She smiled.

“I could never stay angry with you. I will go to Shana. I just, I had to see you. Be safe, Arames, and come back to us. I cannot bear the thought of losing you.” 

Arames nodded. Ysabelle kissed her brother, and helped him into a tent. She then embraced Dorian, Varric, and Blackwall. Bull lifted her onto Atish'an and she kissed him on his forehead.

“Hawke has a message for you.”

“Does she?”

“Stay alive, you big idiot. I love you.’ Not the most romantic thing, but fitting. I don't understand you two.”

“I'd stop reading the Seeker’s books, for one. But thanks, Izzo. Tell her…I dunno, something romantic…”

“I'll try. I tend not to bother you two…”

Bull chuckled. “I'll try to keep my thoughts clean for the next few hours, then.”

Ysabelle rode Atish'an out of camp. She stopped in front of Solas’ tent.

“Goodbye, Solas. Dirthara-ma.”

“You are an impressive woman, not unlike your sister. I wish you well.”

She nodded and rode off.

“Andraste guide us,” Cassandra murmured. “We must bring him back to them.”

================

Arames stayed up writing. Dorian eventually fell into a fitful slumber and awoke to find himself alone in the tent. He stepped out onto freshly fallen snow. Arames was sitting by the campfire, warming his hands on a mug of tea.

“Varric was the only one to remember coffee,” Arames explained. “It's brewing.”

Dorian nodded and scratched at the stubble on his cheek. 

“You can shave after we get rid of Corypheus, Vhenan.”

“Fasta vass, it's like you can read my mind.”

The others stirred and soon Bull was handing out the few provisions the Quartermaster had packed: dried strips of druffalo meat with some hard cheese and bread. They are in silence, knowing it may well be the last time they ate together.

“How's the hand, Boss?” 

Arames shook his head. 

“It's killing you. Like before.” There was fresh pain in Cassandra's voice.

“Amatus,” Dorian slid his arm around Arames. 

"We end this today. No matter what."

"No matter what, Boss. We got your back."


	28. Chapter 28

Corypheus was waiting for them at Haven, entertaining himself by torturing the few troops Cullen had left to guard the demolished town. Arames had not thought to return to the site of so much carnage. He leaned against Bull as they fought the endless barrage of demons that poured out of the newfound rift. 

Morrigan transformed herself into a dragon, and flew at the blighted archdemon dragon under Corypheus' command.

His friends fought with a level of voracity he had not seen in some time, if ever. Cassandra was relentless, channeling her anger and slicing through her enemies. Cole and Sera danced around the battlefield nearly invisible while Bull and Blackwall pushed forward, a bulwark that allowed Arames to stumble toward Corypheus. 

"I can see him!" Dorian pointed. "There—by the Chantry!"

Bull blasted his War Horn and took off in the direction of the blighted Magister. Arames followed close behind. Cullen’s advice echoed in his head. He focused on footwork as he cut down a Fear Demon with his Sprit Blade. He heard Bull ahead of him.

“Pivot, Arames, dammit. Pivot!!”

Arames let out an involuntary laugh as Bull used one of Cullen’s favorite critiques in the midst of battle, and then the ground underneath gave way. Arames screamed with pain as the mark on his hand pulsed with energy and the veil tore further. He watched his friends below as demons overwhelmed them. Through the blinding pain Arames noticed a flash in front of him. Panic gripped him as he recognized Dorian’s staff.

“Vhenan!” He screamed, and reached to grab Dorian's hand. The rocks gave way and Dorian dangled in the air. The pain was almost too much to bear. Arames pulled, but he was not strong enough to haul Dorian onto solid ground.

“Arames, you have to let go,” Dorian shouted, as they rose even higher into the sky.

Arames shook his head, defiant. “You'll die.”

They heard the roar of a pride demon behind them. 

“Amatus, you must.”

“Dorian I—“

He heard the hiss of several quickly loosed arrows and then silence. Bull leaned out and grabbed Dorian by the shoulder.

“Hang on, big guy,” he said, and hefted Dorian back into the floating rock that had once been a Chantry. Arames quickly studied Dorian for injuries before looking up at Bull. 

The Iron Bull had a large burn across his chest and back. Behind him stood Sera, pulling three arrows out of the eyes of the now dead pride demon. She had a black eye and her lower lip was swollen, she looked over at Arames.

“What? I made some promises.”

“Is it just us?” Dorian looked about. Sera nodded.

“Well, then,” Arames stood with some difficulty and looked up the spiraling stones towards the source of Corypheus’ booming voice. “New plan of attack: Dorian will focus on support since no one here is wearing heavy armor—“

“Hey, it impedes my movement,” Bull interrupted. 

Sera loosed several arrows into an approaching rage demon. Ice crystallized around its form and the beast shattered, leaving a scorch mark on the ground.

“Widdle made me toys,” she giggled.

“Bull and I will have to be in front. Sera will stay back with Dorian and keep out of direct combat.”

“But—“

“Sorry Dorian,” Bull cut in. “We're the only two with swords. Even if his is some weird magic thing.”

The scream overhead reminded them of the battle between Morrigan and Corypheus’ beast. Then Morrigan fell to the ground, unmoving.

“Shite!” Sera screamed, as the Archdemon landed with a heavy thud. 

Arames could see it was injured: blood seeped down its plated scales and it favored one of its legs. Bull saw it too, but he wouldn't be able to get close without someone else drawing its attention, and neither he, Sera, nor Dorian could withstand a direct attack. 

Arames grabbed Bull's arm.

"I have an idea—just, hold on." 

And he disappeared from view.

"Shit, Boss!" 

"Arames, where in the void—"

And then he materialized under the dragon's chest. Whispering a small prayer to Andruil, he manifested his blade between two heavy plated scales. The Dragon roared in pain and listed to the side. Bull, never one to miss an opportunity, ran and slammed his great axe into the Dragon's throat as Sera loosed numerous arrows at its face. It let out a few strangled gasps and then fell, dead, at Bull's feet. 

“What the fuck was that magic shit?” Sera screamed at him, her finger pointing accusingly toward the dead archdemon. 

Instead of answering her, he ran on, chasing the now mortal Corypheus. Red lyrium jutted from the walls of the floating Chantry. The narrow winding stairs made it difficult to move quickly. Bull got hit with a lightning spell, which left heavy gashes across his back and side. Sera hit her head on a rock when diving away from a barrage of red lyrium shards, making it near impossible for her to fight. Luckily, Dorian's impressive ability to dispel magic left the ancient darkspawn magister relatively powerless. Bull got in a few heavy hits, which allowed Arames to get close. He just needed to get the orb. The searing pain in his head did not dissipate and he screamed in agony as Corypheus began to cast a spell.

Iron Bull grabbed Dorian and Sera before they could interfere.

"Just give him a chance!" Bull roared. 

Arames concentrated the last bit of energy he had on the orb, in the vague hope that the pain might stop if he held it. He felt the magic within the orb respond, as did Corypheus, who began to beseech Dumat. 

“…if you ever truly existed, aid me now!” Corypheus roared.

The orb flew into Arames’ outstretched hand, he stumbled back. He smiled up at Corypheus.

“I hate to be bearer of bad news, but Dumat perished at the end of the first blight, some thousand years ago. He can't hear you. Now, if I recall you wanted into the Fade?”

And with a sickening pop and tear, Corypheus was gone. Arames looked up and focused the orb at the sky. Arames felt immense power course through his veins. Beyond anything he had felt before, even with the help of the Circle mages. He could feel the veil around him, thick and heavy, like a wet blanket, slowly suffocating everyone. Something about the breach felt right, free. Somewhere in the back of his head he heard a voice.

“Tear it down and restore our people to their former glory.”

Arames shook his head. It was madness. The breach was killing him. He willed the orb to close, which it did, begrudgingly. With the breach closed once again the orb fell from his hands, spent. 

And then he fell.

He didn’t remember hitting the ground. He felt dizzy and realized that the fall had ruptured one of his eardrums, leaving him deaf to the frantic screams of his friends across the rubble. 

Then Solas stepped over him to pick up the orb. He studied it for a moment.

“The orb, it's broken,” he whispered, heartbroken.

Arames bit back rage. He touched his ear and felt blood. The pain in his hand had disappeared. But Solas did not care. He looked back at Arames.

“Whatever happens you have my respect. And…what I had with Ishana. It was real.” 

“So why did you leave her?”

Solas shook his head and walked off.

“Solas? Answer me!”

Over the ringing he heard the muffled shouts of Bull and Cassandra. A large rock rolled away and Arames was face to face with Blackwall. For a moment, Arames did not recognize the former Warden. Blackwall had a gash across his forehead and his beard was drenched in blood but moments within making eye contact with Arames he smiled. 

“He's here! Dorian, over here!”

Blackwall offered his arm and helped Arames stand. Arames stumbled and leaned against the old warrior. Dorian ran over and embraced Arames.

"You're not dead—look at us, not dead!"

Arames pointed to his ears. Dorian called Vivienne over and they did what they could to repair the damage. 

"Better?"

The ringing hadn't stopped. Arames looked up to where Solas had stood. He was gone. 

"What do we do now?" Cassandra asked. 

They were all alive, albeit injured. Arames smiled and looked over at his friends.

"Let's go home."

=================

Arames spent much of the journey back to Skyhold fast asleep, his body slowly recovering from the battle and lack of pain.  
The bells of Skyhold’s chapel tolled in celebration as they drew near. Arames rode Hamin in front, with Dorian and Cassandra by his side. Crowds erupted into cheers as they entered the courtyard. Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine stood up on the stairs. Before he could even take one step two figures crashed into him, nearly knocking him to the ground. Ishana and Ysabelle kissed their brother and held him close. Tears and laughter echoed along the heavy stone walls with the cries of victory. The celebration continue through the night and early into the next morning.


	29. Chapter 29

As the celebrations wound down there were new questions to address. Would the anchor continue to work now that the orb was destroyed? How many smaller rifts remained? Finally, what would happen to the Inquisition, it's Herald, and his closest friends. The answers came with time.

After Solas, Vivienne left first when she learned that Arames had frustrated her efforts to become Divine. Not long after, Morrigan departed, taking her young son Kieran with her. Ysabelle wandered Skyhold, having lost her tutors and study companion within a few weeks. Grand Enchanter Fiona suggested she travel to the new college of magi with the departing free mages. After a year, Ysabelle departed to study. 

Varric stuck around for a few months but his efforts to rebuild Kirkwall took him back across the Waking Sea. Bull took the Chargers northeast towards the Anderfels, in the hopes he would find Hawke, as there was no news out of Weisshaupt. One by one, life began to pull Arames’ friends away.

Dorian did stay, for a time. But even he left Arames’ side to help Maevaris’ fledgling Lucerni party. Arames used Dorian's long absences to travel across Thedas, closing rifts and negotiating with political powers. Ishana traveled with him as a member of the Inquisition Honor Guard. She and Cullen both traveled down to Frostback Basin, and Bull even made it back from Nevarra to fight the Dragon Hakkon. 

Time passed.

Then Cassandra went in search of any remaining Seekers.

Blackwall went in search of forgiveness.

Cole went to Kirkwall to join Varric.

Rumors of discontent in Ferelden and Orlais began to surface. Josephine fretted about how the Divine might keep an Exalted Council at bay.

And then, one day, the mark flared.

It was during a meeting in the War Room. Josephine was discussing tactics for the Exalted Council while Harding, Cullen, and Arames half listened. Harding and Charter shared the job of Spymaster after Leliana was ordained but neither enjoyed staying in one place for too long. Cullen was always grumpy if anyone kept him separated from Ishana, and Arames found himself gazing at the large map and imagining what Minrathous might look like.

“Is anyone listening?” Josephine asked. 

Harding smiled and nodded. “Something about Tegan?”

“Is this really necessary Josephine?” Cullen asked. “The Divine has kept Orlais and Ferelden off our backs for years.”

“At increasing political cost. Ferelden—“

“If Alistair doesn't want us in Ferelden perhaps he could do his blighted job!”

“We haven't given him much of an opportunity,” Harding countered.

Arames felt his headache return. Suddenly a sharp pain ripped through his arm as the long dormant mark flared. Arames yelped in surprise as a forgotten green light filled the room.

“Arames!” Cullen shouted, and leapt over the table to steady his friend. 

Arames concentrated and the mark died down slowly. His hand throbbed.

“Inquisitor, are you alright?” Harding asked. Josephine looked pale. Charter peaked her head out from under the table. 

Arames nodded and dismissed them. He stood in the empty War Room clutching his left arm. He felt the magic awaken within it. 

“So much for Minrathous,” he sighed. The mark flared again and he fainted.


	30. Chapter 30

Even without Leliana's presence they relied heavily on her techniques: secrecy and misdirection. Arames was plagued with headaches and his ability to control the mark was sporadic. Thus he was only seen occasionally. No one, save those in the War Room and Arames’ own twin even knew what was happening. And Arames hid the worst from them as well. 

He wrote to Dorian when he felt well enough and reading letters from his friends brightened his spirits. He spent many of his waking hours corresponding with Cassandra, Bull, Dorian, and Varric. Sera would bring him cookies and draw pictures to accompany his notes to Dorian.

Ishana spent most of her time tending to her brother. Bright and cheerful, she kept him busy and distracted him from the unstable magic ravaging his body. It was only late at night, when she was alone with Cullen, that she confessed her fear: that her brother might die and leave her alone in this world again. Cullen did not argue. Over the years Arames had become like a brother to him. After Dorian and Bull departed Arames spent much of his free time with Cullen and some of the higher ranking officers in the Inquisition. Cullen felt the ache of Arames’ potential absence as well.

So it was that no one knew the extent of the damage by the time they left for Halamshiral. Arames wore heavy gloves that hid the mark on his hands, provided the anchor did not flare. Much to Josephine’s dismay, he refused to wear the uniforms when they first came through the gates in a formal procession. What he did not tell Josephine was that the eerie green glow of his mark had begun to creep up his arm and could be seen through the thin silk shirt.

“I can just explain—“ Cullen had started, as he helped Arames get dressed.

“No—it would be easier for her to be angry at me. Josephine would simply fret, and she is stressed enough.”

Cullen nodded. He handed Arames a pair of gloves. 

“Inquisitor. Arames—“ Cullen starred, then coughed and turned crimson.

“Yes, Cullen?”

Cullen stammered and began to rub the back of his neck. 

“Are you quite alright Commander?”

Cullen nodded. He helped himself to a glass of ruby port and cleared his throat.

“I—I am uncertain how to do this. In Ferelden, I would make my intentions known to your father, and in light of his demise, you…”

“Your intentions?”

“To propose marriage—“

Arames broke out in a wide grin. “Well, Cullen, I am flattered, but I'm not so sure Shana or Dorian would be thrilled with the arrangement.”

Cullen's mouth flapped open. He sank down into an overstuffed chair. “Maker's breath, how do I do this?”

“Cullen, you need to ask her. It's her heart, not mine, that you are binding yourself to. For what it's worth, I am happy for you, and would welcome you as a brother. So would Izzy.”

“So, I just…ask her?” 

Arames nodded. The mark flared and he stumbled forward. Cullen caught him.

“It's getting worse, isn't it?” Cullen asked in a quiet voice. Less a question and more a statement of fact. Arames nodded.

“If I may make a request, do it sooner rather than later— I'd like to see the wedding.”

Cullen nodded and helped Arames down the stairs for the processional.

==================

“What does it say that it takes an Exalted Council to get us together?” Blackwall asked in the tavern that evening. Sera hiccuped and punched him in the shoulder.

“He has a point,” Cassandra fixed her gaze on Arames. “How are you, my friend?”

“You look...” Varric frowned over his reading spectacles. “Are you feeling alright, Arames?”

Arames smiled weakly.

“Don't worry, Boss. Dorian’ll be here soon.”

“Wha?” Sera looked over at Iron Bull, confusion etched across her face. “He's here. Got pulled into a meeting with some Orlesian nob the minute he arrived. I thought you knew…” She trailed off and took another sip of her ale.

Arames studied his hands. The mark flared for a moment but he was able to quiet it. Bull rested his hand on the back of Arames’ neck. The familiar gesture was comforting.

“Go see him, Boss. It'll do you some good.”

Arames felt foggy as he walked across the courtyard. Cullen had found an orphaned Mambari of all things. Arames had never seen one up close. Hawke had left hers with Merrill in Kirkwall, but had said she'd bring him with her to Weisshaupt. Fereldeners love their dogs, Varric had counseled ages ago. He was right. Cullen seemed to have forgotten both the council and his position within the Inquisition as he roughhoused with the oversized puppy. Ishana clapped and held treats aloft as the dog barked and leapt at her feet. A peace settled within Arames. His sister was going to be fine without him. Which means Ysabelle would be alright as well.

He found Dorian in the middle of an argument with Duke Cyril. The young noble had always been kind to Arames, but Dorian was clearly at the end of his rope.

"Orlais is on your side, Lord Parvus. The Inquisition's support is not a thing to lose lightly—" 

“—Which is why the Orlesian court is circling it with a net and collar?” Dorian accused. A small spark of lighting danced between his fingers, a sign he was angry. Duke Cyril pretended not to notice. Arames had learned firsthand it was unwise to underestimate Dorian's temper. Arames coughed, softly. Dorian spun around and his face lit up when he saw Arames in the doorframe, the fading afternoon light obscuring his expression.

“But you'll have to excuse me, I see an old friend I must greet.”

Duke Cyril nodded and Dorian swept out of the room, grabbed Arames by the waist, and pulled him into an alcove behind two Cyprus trees.

“Amatus, wading through all the pomp and circumstance, I see,” he purred.

“You're back after being in Tevinter for a month, and this is how you greet me?” Arames teased.

“I have an apology ready,” Dorian whispered. His lips ghosted across Arames’ neck.

“Wh—"

Dorian kissed Arames on the lips. Arames fell against the wall and Dorian pressed against him. Their hands roamed and Arames felt dizzy with the familiar scent of leather, parchment, and sandalwood. 

“Vhenan,” Arames murmured.

Time itself seemed to freeze. Finally Dorian stepped back and studied Arames. His smile faded as he took in changes to his lover’s face over the weeks they had been apart.

"Amatus, you look pale..."

Arames waved him off. He did not want to argue with Dorian about his fading health, or the fact that Dorian did not seek him out when he arrived. "What have you learned about this Council?"

Dorian locked arms with Arames and they began to walk towards the private quarters overlooking the garden. 

"Orlais wants the Inquisition tamed, Ferelden wants it gone, the Chantry meddles, and Tevinter sends but one ambassador. That's me, by the way. A 'reward for my interest in the South.' Thankfully Ambassador Pavus is a token appointment. Call on me as you'd like."

"I'll do that."

================ 

For once, Dorian did not stay up writing. Arames could not recall the last time he had fallen asleep with Dorian's arms wrapped around him. He slept well for most of the night, until the mark flared a little before sunrise.

Luckily, Dorian did not stir. Arames rose and washed himself in the cold water basin that had arrived with a plate of fruit, cheese, and freshly baked bread. Arames studied his left hand. The skin was thin and grey, it split around his joints and the top of his hand revealing raw flesh and an eerie green light. No spells or other traditional healing methods had worked. The best he could do was keep it covered. So he wrapped it in a clean linen bandage up his forearm, as the mark was spreading.  
He dressed and studied papers from Josephine by the fireplace until Dorian stirred.

“Shall I order a bath for you, Vhenan?”

Dorian shook his head. “Vivienne and I have an appointment at the spa. I can wait.” Dorian pulled Arames into an embrace. “Maker’s breath, how I missed you, Amatus.”

The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. 

“Don't go back to Tevinter, Dorian. Varric gifted me an estate in Kirkwall. We could live there, if you'd like. But we could go anywhere.”

Arames’ plea took Dorian aback. 

“I don't think I should be naked for this conversation,” he muttered, and grabbed a robe from the closet. His favorite. That he left in Skyhold. He turned back to Arames. “You mean it, don't you. Us. Together.”

“Yes. Forget the Inquisition. Forget the Council. I want you, Dorian. Just…say yes?”

Dorian frowned. “This is remarkably sentimental, even for you.”

“Shana’s getting married, Izzy has gone off to study at the College of Enchanters—“

“Your sister is getting married?!”

Arames nodded. “Well, Cullen is proposing. Of course she'll say yes.”

“Of course.”

Arames paused for a moment. The mark hummed. “Would you?”

“Would I what?” Dorian grabbed Arames’ hand and studied the bandage. “Amatus, what is wrong with the anchor?”

“Would you say yes, Dorian?”

“Answer my question, Arames.”

“Answer mine.” 

Arames tried to pull his hand away but Dorian tightened his grip. Arames cried out in pain and fell to his knees. Dorian released his hold as if stung.

“Vishante kafass—what happened?" 

Arames grimaced and stood, his hand throbbing. 

"You won't answer, then?"

"It's complicated."

"I see."

Dorian let out an exacerbated breath. "Maker's breath, Arames, what do you want from me?"

Arames pulled his gloves on and grabbed his stack of parchments. 

"I will be in meetings all day. Enjoy your time with Vivienne." 

Dorian grabbed Arames' shoulder.

"Arames, wait—"

Arames spun around. 

"No—that's the problem, Dorian. I am waiting. I've always been waiting for you. Since the beginning. And I understand duty—I'm here aren't I? Serving the Inquisition even though I never asked for any of this—" Arames gestured around the room. He took a breath.

"And yet, here I am. About to spend two weeks being yelled at by everyone in Thedas we saved. The Inquisition is over and you know it. Even if it continues in name, it will not be what it was, and that's fine. But, Dorian, I can't go back home. You travel to and from Tevinter, talking about your homeland. I have none. I have my clan. I could go to Wycombe and resume my duties as First. But I'd have to marry Mithareon. I cannot avoid that. Unless I don't go back. If the Inquisition is disbanded I will have no claim to Skyhold. And that's assuming Leliana’s efforts to maintain an independent College of Magi stands without my support. I'm a Mage. Perhaps I'll just be sent to a Circle. Or they'll view me as a threat and make me Tranquil. I'm unmoored and I'm asking you to ground me. Aren't I as important to you? Or at least as important as Tevinter?”

“That's not fair and you know it,” Dorian snapped, tears brimming in his eyes. 

Arames massaged his temples. The headaches were getting worse.

“I never said it was fair. But I'm not the one walking away.”

They stood in silence for several moments. The mark hummed faintly and Arames could feel blood seep through his bandage. He was grateful he was wearing his gloves.

“You aren't going to tell me about the anchor, are you?” Dorian sighed, defeated.

Arames shook his head. “I don't know what's wrong.”

An Inquisition soldier entered the room to escort Arames to his first meeting.

“I'll see you at supper,” Arames called. Dorian nodded and when he was finally alone, burst into tears.


	31. Chapter 31

Arames made it through two meetings before Josephine ordered him back to his chambers to rest. Apparently his poor health left him with limited diplomatic resources and she wanted to avoid burning every bridge imaginable. 

He wandered the courtyard, spending time with his friends. For the most part they all had somewhere to go after the Inquisition. Cullen and Bull sympathized with Arames’ plight over lunch in the tavern. Since becoming Tal Vashoth, Bull had lost any means of returning to Par Vollen and was equally homeless. Cullen had lived in barracks since thirteen and had no land to claim as his own. 

“You could go back to your family,” Bull pointed out.

Cullen nodded. “You could go to Kirkwall.” 

Bull shrugged, a reluctant acknowledgement. 

Cullen fixed his golden eyes on Arames. “What of Ysabelle? Will she remain in training forever?” 

“Speaking of, why isn't Izzo here?” 

“She'll be here the day after tomorrow.” 

“Could you take her and go…” Cullen trailed off. Where would two apostate elves live? And that was assuming Ysabelle did not want to have a life of her own. Several Magisters had expressed interest in sponsoring her training in the Tevinter Circle but Arames had nixed that suggestion months ago. He couldn't lose her to Tevinter as well. 

“You see my problem?” 

“Maybe we both move to Kirkwall. I bet there's plenty of room in that Manor Varric got you. And we could keep Izzo safe.”   
Arames smiled. “That's not such a bad idea, Bull.” 

A runner arrived and pulled Arames into another series of meetings. 

==================

It was twilight when he and Josephine finalized his statements for the hearings the next morning. No one was at the tavern so Arames wandered the courtyard where he noticed Varric and Sera standing by one of the meditation pools. He ran over. All his friends were there, including Cullen and Ishana, both of whom were grinning like idiots. He must have finally asked her. 

“Sparkles,” Varric began, to cheers from the others, “they don't want you, they may even try to kill you, but we'll miss you.” 

“What?!” Arames blurted. He felt woozy. Cullen caught him at his elbow to steady him. 

“We only just found out,” Cullen whispered. 

“Found out what?” Arames asked, his mind felt slowed and he concentrated on Dorian's face, ignoring everyone else. 

“And you didn't know,” Varric sighed and glared over at Dorian. “Alright people, let's move.” 

Bull let out a drunken snore from under the couch. 

“Eh,” Varric nudged Bull with his foot, “leave him.” 

Cullen released his hold and Arames stumbled forward. Dorian caught his arm and walked him over to a couch. 

“Dorian, what are they talking about?” 

“It's true. I couldn't stay away from Tevinter forever. I'm leaving as soon as the Exalted Council is over. For good, this time.” 

Arames felt nauseous. Was this Dorian's answer to their argument that morning? 

“You're leaving?” He stammered. Dorian took a deep breath. 

“My father is dead. Assassinated, I believe. I received notice this morning: a perversely cheerful letter congratulating me on assuming his seat in the Magisterium.” 

"Did you know know this morning?” 

Dorian shook his head. “The message arrived after you had left.” 

“Vhenan, I am so sorry.” 

Dorian's eyes misted. “We only met a few times when I was home. He didn't say anything about keeping me as his heir. This ambassadorship was his doing, I am told. He wanted me away when the trouble began. But I am glad that we were speaking. Not having that closure…” He looked back at Arames. “You didn't have that.” 

“No. And I've made peace with it. He was a stubborn old man and would not have seen reason. I suppose losing Mamae broke him long before I had the chance to do any damage…” He took a slow breath. “So is this it?” 

Dorian's eyes widened. “Hardly. Why should anything change?” 

Arames frowned. “Because you'll be in Tevinter? Forever? I mean, it won't be safe for you. I could come—“ 

“What, and put you in even more danger than you are in here?” 

Arames flexed his hand and thought of the cracks in his flesh and the eerie green light that was spreading up his arm. “You can't save me, Dorian.” 

“Can't I try to keep you safe?” 

“Can't I try to protect you?” 

“It's different…” 

“I don't like being away from you.” 

The sat in silence for several minutes. Perhaps it was for the best, Arames thought. Dorian could truly move on. He felt a familiar pulse of pain shoot up his arm and seize his chest. He was dying anyway. 

“I got you a present,” Dorian said, rifling through his pockets until he pulled out a handsome silk pouch. He handed it to Arames. “It's a sending crystal, amazing what a friendship with the Inquisition gives you access to. If I get in over my head, or you're overwhelmed with sorrow of the lack of my velvety voice—magic!” Dorian showed Arames a matching stone that hung from his neck by a thin leather cord. “What? You didn't think I'd leave and that would be it. You are the man I love, Amatus. Nothing will change that.” 

“It would make your life much less complicated if—“ 

“No.” Dorian's voice was sharp. He grabbed Arames by the front of his shirt and pulled him close. “I can't do this without you.” 

Arames kissed Dorian on the lips, trying not to show his heart was breaking. “Then you have me as long as I draw breath.” 

=====================================================================================

The days blurred together, the murdered Qunari adding an extra layer of frustration and stress to Arames’ frayed nerves. But, despite wild goose chases in the Crossroads, the magic of his anchor, and the realization that Dorian would indeed relocate to Tevinter for good, Arames was granted one reprieve: Ysabelle arrived in time to witness Mother Giselle conduct a small wedding ceremony for Cullen and Ishana. 

For a brief moment in the tavern they were joyful. Sera got drunk and sang a few bawdy songs, drawing hearty laughs from Cullen, who, for the first time in years, felt whole again. Ishana looked radiant. She wore a simple white silk gown and Ysabelle had made her a crown of flowers that sat atop her auburn hair. 

Arames leaned against Dorian and watched his friends drink and toast the happy couple. 

“She's going to be alright,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “Everyone will be alright.” 

“What did you say, Amatus?” 

Arames shook his head. “Nothing, Vhenan.” 

Ysabelle sat next to him, her fingers smudged from the charcoal pencil she was using to sketch the evening. She had already filled at least 10 pages with rough outlines she would fill in at a later date. 

“I'm glad they let you continue your artwork.” 

Ysabelle shrugged. “If you do your work they don't have much to complain about. Hopefully in Tevinter I can still find time.” 

Dorian, mid sip, coughed and spluttered. He grabbed a handkerchief and covered his face. Ysabelle looked up, her face serene. Guilt flickered for a moment as she glanced at Arames and then she resumed her sketch. 

“Izzy?” Arames asked, “what are you talking about?” 

“How?” Dorian gasped, “who is sponsoring you?” 

“There are some at the College of Magi who have proposed an exchange of sorts, now that the Chantry is less controlling.” Some color rose to her cheeks. “Also, I may have told them you would sponsor me, Dorian.” 

“You what?!” Arames shouted. 

Dorian was speechless. He stood and glared down at Ysabelle. The room got very quiet as all eyes were in the back of the room. Ysabelle must have expected this reaction. She closed her notebook and looked up at Dorian. 

“You offered.” 

“Did you?” Ishana called out, her carefree smile replaced by a murderous expression. 

Dorian spluttered. 

“Years ago—before she went to the college. I mean...yes. But it was a hypothetical conversation! I wasn't even a Magister. I didn't even have the ability to sponsor unless…” Something seemed to slide into place. “Maevaris.” 

“Shit, Mae,” Varric grumbled. 

“It doesn't matter, it is done.” Ysabelle stood up. “If Tevinter is really to change it must be more than simply within the Magisterium. Maevaris believes I can rally more to the Lucerni and make sure it outlives you two.” 

“You have been corresponding with Maevaris? For how long?” Dorian's face was flushed and his voice was high pitched. 

“You cannot send the Inquisitor's sister into a Tevinter Circle!” Cullen pounded his fist on the table. He pointed a finger at Ysabelle. “Do you realize the size of the target that would be placed on your back?” 

“She's not going as the Inquisitor's sister,” Bull growled, always two steps ahead. He shook his head. “That's not fair, Izzo.” 

“Oh, my dear. Don't be a fool,” Vivienne hissed. 

“Somebody please enlighten me,” Arames looked around. 

“Say hello to Dorian's daughter, Boss. Even bastards get training if their family is powerful.” 

Ysabelle was prepared and dispelled Dorian's spell before the lightning could hit the wall. Arames stood up. “Shana—no!” 

But Ishana's training as an assassin meant she could move effortlessly through a crowd. She rounded on Ysabelle, her hand streaking across her sisters face. Crack. 

“You stupid little girl! After everything we have done for you—you go and throw your life away.” 

“Shana—“ Arames grabbed his twin sister’ hand. “Please.” 

Ysabelle stood up. She was still smaller than her sister, but they were nearly at eye level. Light where her sister was dark, she stood her ground. Her stubbornness amplified by adolescence and a sense of purpose. 

“You don't understand. I have to. It's the only way we have a chance of beating him. The Dread Wolf woke up, Arames. He is near, I can feel it. He is stronger now than ever before.” 

“We are dealing with the Qunari,” Cullen snarled. He felt as betrayed as Arames and Ishana. Ysabelle had been the one to nurse him through the worst of his withdrawals and had spent hours in his company when Arames and Ishana traveled on Inquisition business. 

“The Qunari are a distraction,” Ysabelle retorted. “Fen'Harel is all over this. The temple with all the self-indulgent paintings. I can't believe you don't see it.” 

“How will going to Tevinter solve anything?” Dorian asked. Small sparks of lightning danced across his fingers. 

“Because it is the one place where the Dread Wolf has no claim. I can also help with recruitment. You forget I am a sominara, Dorian. I can shape the Fade, not just walk around it like Solas. Skulking about and wallowing in self-righteousness.” 

“He didn't—“ Ishana shot back before biting her lower lip. 

“So quick to defend him,” Ysabelle’s eyes narrowed. 

“Solas was—is—our friend. Wherever he is,” Arames countered. His head began to pound. 

“And you say I'm the fool.” 

Dorian sank into a chair and stared off into space. “I don't even want to know the story you two cooked up…” he covered his face with his hands. 

“You selfish little girl,” Ishana whispered, blinking back tears. 

They were interrupted by a loud scuffle in the courtyard. Cullen glanced out the door. 

“Maker’s breath—Inquisitor—“ he motioned for Arames to follow. 

“We will continue this discussion later,” he said. 

Ysabelle sat down and picked up her sketchbook. Her cheeks were pink and she avoided his eyes. “No. We won't.” 

Bull shrugged at Arames. “Teenagers, Boss. What can you do?” 

“If the anchor doesn't kill me sulahn'nehn, you just might.” 

Arames walked out.


	32. Chapter 32

Iron Bull carried Arames back from the Fade library after his anchor discharged and blew him into a wall, knocking him unconscious.

“This isn't gonna help with the headaches,” he grumbled. 

Varric gave a grim nod. “Izzy always knew how to help, maybe she can do something.” 

Arames stirred and groaned. 

“We're almost back at the palace, Boss.” 

“He can't go back,” Cassandra declared. “Every time we come back to the Crossroads the mark gets worse.” 

“Have you looked at it Dorian?” Blackwall asked. 

“No. Vivienne?” 

“Solas was the only one who pretended to understand the anchor but we all know it is dangerous.” 

“So that's a no, then. Ma'am.” 

Vivienne grumbled and shook her head. 

“Tiny, you have any idea what this Darvaarad is? Or operation Dragon’s Breath?” 

“Nope. No idea. But it looks like it has something to do with the end of the fucking world.” 

“Luckily we have a decent track record with that particular problem,” Blackwall said. 

==============

Arames came to in the small alcove where the Eluvian had been hidden. Ishana and Ysabelle were waiting for him. Ysabelle studied his face and finally unwrapped the bandage around his hand. 

The magic had spread up his forearm and pulsed with his heartbeat. The skin was blackened and cracking, as if it were slowly being turned to stone. A smell, similar to charred meat, filled the room. 

“Oh, Arames,” Ysabelle whispered, dropping to her knees in front of him. 

“Ir abelas, lethallan,” Arames winced as she pulled the last of the bandage from his fingers. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she replied, and slathered a thick green paste on his palm. Arames grimaced. 

She worked swiftly and within moments he was bandaged. He smiled up at his friends. 

“Cullen,” Arames gestured and the Commander helped him stand. “Let's meet with Josephine and The Divine to see if there are any updates. I'll be back soon.” 

Cullen nodded and they left the room. 

Ishana sank down into the chair her brother had occupied only moments before. Ysabelle rested her head on her sister's lap. They remained there for several moments. Bull placed a heavy hand on Dorian's shoulder. Dorian tried to shrug out of Bull’s grip but the Qunari mercenary held tight. 

“Venhedis, unhand me!” 

“I'm…sorry Dorian,” Bull’s voice was quiet and gentle. “We love him too.” 

“He'll l be fine, Bull. Maybe we can slow the progress. Vivienne and I could try to redirect the magic…” 

Cole knelt by Ysabelle and held her hands. 

“I'm sorry, Shana.” Ysabelle said. Her voice was soft and sad. Ishana ran her fingers through Ysabelle’s golden hair. 

“We have all done stupid things, sulahn'nehn.” 

“Like jumping in front of a red Templar and getting gored?” Bull asked. Ishana glanced down at the wide scars that came across her chest and ended at her collarbone. 

“That's one example,” Ishana replied. 

“Why is the anchor suddenly unstable?" Dorian asked. "It makes no sense, he's been able to control it for years with no issues." 

"Save the headaches and constant pain," Blackwall countered. "It's been killing him since the beginning." 

“Faulting, flickering, fading. The veil tears open and tears him apart.” Cole murmured. 

They heard a scream from somewhere downstairs. Ishana closed her eyes.“Mythal have mercy.” 

“We are past Mythal, sister. Our brother is another victim of Fen'Harel’s trickery. The Dread Wolf created the Veil. Now he tries to tear it down. Destroying Arames along the way.” 

Bull pulled Dorian into an embrace. It was unclear who was leaning on whom. 

Then Leliana came into the room and confirmed their worst fears. Cullen followed several minutes later, helping Arames walk. The anchor crackled with energy that seemed to be draining Arames’ own life force. 

Arames steadied himself with his staff and looked at his friends. He was pale and his face glistened with sweat from the pain his hand seemed to cause. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Shall we?” 

“Arames—“ Ishana ran forward and embraced him. 

“Cullen will take good care of you, sister.” Arames looked down at Ysabelle. “And Dorian will keep you safe sulahn'nehn.” 

Ishana nodded and kissed him on the cheek. Ysabelle did the same. They stood, Cullen’s thick arms wrapped around each of them. For a brief moment Arames remembered his mother and father, waiting for him in the afterlife. 

“Inquisitor—“ Cullen started, and sighed. He squeezed Ishana's shoulder. “Arames. Thank you. For everything.” 

Arames looked longingly towards his family. Ishana, still in her wedding gown, a crown of white flowers atop her braided auburn hair. Ysabelle, sixteen and still a child in his eyes, trying not to cry. Cullen, tall and strong and kind despite the horrors he'd faced. Then Arames turned and walked through the Eluvian one last time. 

===============

The pain was unbearable, but seemed less so with the knowledge that it would soon end. His friends followed, resignation clear on their faces. 

Dorian grabbed Arames’ elbow and turned him around. “Leliana told us about your pyrotechnic display downstairs. Why didn't you—I could have done something—“ 

Arames ran a hand along Dorian's cheek, trying to memorize every detail. 

“Whatever happens, I wouldn't trade the years we've had together for anything.” 

Dorian blinked back tears and pulled Arames close. The mark thrummed with every heartbeat. 

“You cheeky bastard. I knew you'd break my heart.” 

Bull rolled up and placed a large hand on the back of Arames’ neck. The simple gesture had always brought comfort. He would miss it. 

“It's been an honor kicking ass alongside you all. Annan.” 

==============

They fought through the fortress, freeing the Ataashi and sending her out into the night sky. The Viddasala was waiting for them. The mark flared and Arames dropped to his knees. The pain was blinding. The Viddasla shook her head. 

"Dear Inquisitor, you have so little time left. You must finally see the truth. Elven magic already tore the sky apart. If the agents of Fen'Harel are not stopped, you will shatter the world as well." 

Arames blinked back tears. Bull helped him stand. 

"Fuck you," Arames muttered. "Whatever you think I've done, attempted mass assassination doesn't leave you with a moral high ground." 

The Viddasala took a deep breath and continued to explain, as if talking to a child. "The South was poisoned by these elves' manipulations. It suffers as you do now. You would have died from the mark on your hand, but for the help of one of their chief agents. The same agent who helped seal the breach. Who led you to Skyhold. Who gave Corypheus the orb, then founded the Inquisition. Solas, agent of Fen’Harel.” 

"Damnit, Chuckles, what have you done?" Varric muttered. 

“Solas is an agent of Fen'Harel?” 

"Did you not know? We thought you were his ally. Solas tricked us all. He pushed a dying Qunari into the Winter Palace. To lure you into opposing us. Without him we could have brought the South peace and wisdom along the gentle path. Now, we must take the way of blades." 

They all stood, bewildered at the news. The mark flared and Arames was flooded with memories. Solas’ explanation and preoccupation with the Orb, his dismissal of the Dalish as children, his knowledge of magic that could remove the vallaslin, of Ysabelle’s warnings about the Dread Wolf, of the paintings in Skyhold. Arames scowled. 

"Panahedan, Inquisitor. If it is any consolation, Solas will not outlive you." 

She disappeared through the Eluvian. Arames stumbled up the stairs. 

“The Vidaasala isn't going to kill Solas because I am going to kill him.” He looked over at his friends. “This is my fight, not yours. Go.” 

Bull chuckled. “Yeah, that's not gonna happen.” 

Sera jutted her chin out, challenging Arames to dismiss her. 

Dorian threaded his fingers with Arames’ and the mark quieted. Arames could feel the warmth of a healing spell pass through his arm, but it did nothing. He was dying. 

“Amatus, to the very end.” 

Arames looked up. “I need some to stay behind…in case…I don’t—“ 

Blackwall nodded. 

“It has been an honor, Inquisitor.” 

“We'll see you on the other side of this,” Varric smiled halfheartedly. 

“Good luck, my dear,” Vivienne added. 

Arames stood at the Eluvian with Dorian, Bull, and Sera, as his friends went back into the Davaraad, sweeping for enemies.


	33. Chapter 33

When the mirror began to shimmer Cullen instinctively reached for his sword. Six of the Inquisition Honor Guard freed their weapons as well. He sheathed it when Cassandra's familiar form emerged, followed quickly by Vivienne, Varric, then Blackwall, who carried Sera in his arms. 

“Arames—where is Arames?” Ishana demanded. 

“He's—“ Cassandra gestured behind. 

Blackwall handed Sera to one of the guards. “Healer. Now.” He turned and ran back through the mirror. 

“Andraste preserve me,” Cassandra dropped to her knees. Varric rested a hand on her shoulder. 

Several tense minutes passed by before Blackwall came back through. This time with Dorian, who clutched his ribs and limped. 

“Maker’s breath, what did this to you?” Cullen asked. 

“A mad Sarebas…” Dorian muttered through gritted teeth. Ysabelle ran forward and began to study his wounds. 

Bull emerged, bloodied, with Arames’ limp form in his arms. 

“Oh no—“ Ishana screamed and ran to her brother's side. “Arames, Arames! Wake up!” 

Arames didn't respond. The hand that had once held the anchor was blackened and covered with blood. It smelled of charred flesh. 

“He was muttering about Solas and the Veil and then mostly Elven,” Bull said. “He went quiet a few minutes ago.” 

“And the Qunari?” Cullen asked. 

“Neutralized.” 

“By you?” 

Bull shook his head. 

“Solas.” 

Ishana’s eyes widened in horror. “Solas did this?” 

Ysabelle pushed past her sister. 

“Fen'Harel has finally revealed himself, then. Cullen, I need supplies. I don't know if he's breathing.” 

Two guards brought a stretcher and carried him out, his sisters close behind. 

Bull sank into a chair with a groan and studied his ankle. A moment passed before he looked up and muttered. “Shit, Dorian. Just...sit down.” 

Dorian was still leaning against Blackwall. He was bleeding from the temple and blood seeped onto his robes. He tried to take a step forward. “He needs me.” 

“My dear,” Vivienne scolded, “you need to see a proper healer before you do anything.” 

“I'm fine, he—“ 

“Dorian—I heard your ribs crack from ten feet away.” 

“But—“ 

“Dorian,” Blackwall cut in, “do you think we wouldn't get you? Let's get you checked out and then we can go see Arames.” 

Dorian seemed to crumple as he was led out of the room. Vivienne turned to Bull. 

“What about you, my dear?” 

“No, ma'am. Nothing some rest and a few drinks won't fix.” Bull waited until Dorian was out of earshot before he continued. “Besides, I don't think we're waiting for good news.” 

==============

The hours passed. They sat at a large table in the tavern nursing their wounds. Sera had a black eye and one arm in a sling while Dorian's ribs were bandaged. The others were scrapped and burned from the fight with the Qunari and their Ataashi.   
Ishana joined them, unable to watch her brother remain in his catatonic state. Varric filled her in with what they had learned in their journey through the Eluvians. 

“Why can't we go back? If Solas can help—“ 

“Solas is the whole reason we got into this mess!” Bull hissed. “He gave Corypheus the damned orb.” 

“But—“ 

“Shut it!” Sera snapped. “Stop making excuses for him. He wants to end the sodding world. Just another nob who thinks he knows best and doesn't care about who gets hurt.” 

“He did remove the anchor…” Dorian added. 

“He's a liar and a snake.” Cassandra scowled into her ale. 

“Vishante kafass, if I lose him—“ 

“You were going to leave him anyway,” Ishana shot back. 

“So were you," Bull replied. "And Izzo. He would have been okay.” 

“Don’t use past tense just yet, Tiny.” 

Bull shrugged. 

“I wasn't gonna leave,” Sera muttered. 

“Me neither,” Bull added. 

Cullen coughed from the doorway. 

“Vhenan,” Ishana jumped up. “Is he awake?” 

“Ah, no—they amputated, but—“ 

Dorian let out a low guttural moan. The others had looks of shock and disbelief across their faces. 

“Cullen, no.” 

“Ysabelle has gone into the Fade in the hopes she may find him. I have…” Cullen looked down at the small box in his hand. “I have letters for all of you. From the beginning, he wanted to control how he would say goodbye.” 

He opened the box and pulled out small stacks of folded parchment tied by string. Names and dates were written in Arames’ neat cursive. Some stacks were larger than others. Dorian was reminded of what Hawke had said when she came by their tent before the siege on Adamant Fortress. 

“Oh sweet Maker, no,” he whispered as Cullen handed him a stack of notes, going all the way back to before Haven was destroyed. 

“Mythal's mercy,” Ishana cried out as she started to read. 

"When you finished," Cullen said, his voice quivering, "you can go say goodbye to him." 

Cassandra, Varric, Sera, Blackwall, and Vivienne were given a few. The largest stacks were reserved for Dorian, Ishana, and Iron Bull. Bull stood up and walked over to the bar, his large scarred back to the others. No one spoke. They simply read a collection of farewells Arames had composed throughout the years. Dorian rose, walked out of the tavern, and sat on a bench overlooking a picturesque valley. Then he began to read.


	34. Chapter 34

_Dorian Pavus,_

_I have attached a letter explaining your service to the Inquisition should anyone mistreat you. Additionally, I have instructed Josephine to provide you with a stipend that will allow you to travel safely to the Marches and collect my sisters. Clan Lavellan is near Wycombe. Bull has agreed to protect you as far as Hunter Fell in Nevarra._

_I want to thank you for your service and sacrifice for the Inquisition. On a more personal note, I am grateful for your friendship these past few months, and I am sorry our time was cut short._

_Live well, Dorian, and thank you for keeping my family safe._

_Arames Lavellan_

=====================================================================================

_Dorian,_

_I find it strange that I should write this now, after what unfolded at Haven. I scarcely know you and yet you make promises that I know you would keep. You are nothing if not a man of honor._

_If you are reading this then I have fallen, despite the miracle that was surviving Haven. I am sorry that this letter conveys what I could not say aloud for fear of risking our friendship. But if I am dead, then I have nothing to fear, do I?_

_I have come to care for you, Dorian. You are kind and smart and handsome and had I been a bolder man I may have tried to make you happy. Know that before the bells at Haven tolled, I thought of kissing you. And countless other times before and since._

_I am sorry I was too afraid of losing you._

_Live well, Ser Pavus._

_Arames_

=====================================================================================

_Dorian,_

_I write this as you argue with Vivienne over the future of the (now) free mages in Thedas. You are filled with such passion, I am in awe._

_Tomorrow we attempt to fight a High Dragon, and if you are reading this then I didn't make it. Try not to be too angry at Bull, it was my idea after all. He just organized the excursion._

_I know it has not been long since we kissed on the battlements. My heart still skips a beat when you walk into a room. It is a feeling I never knew I would have in my life and I am grateful for it, even for the short time I was granted happiness. It is better than nothing._

_I am sorry I do not say more. You just offered to share some of your wine and I will not miss an opportunity to be by your side._

_Ir abelas, lethallin._

_Arames_

=====================================================================================

_Dorian,_

_I wonder how many of these I will accumulate before they find themselves in your hand. Perhaps they never will. It is foolish to think that, though, considering what we are undertaking.  
There is little to say here. I have been lucky enough to have you warm my bed these past few weeks. And while you joke about being a “port in a storm” know that you are much more. _

_If I had my way we would let this relationship run its course. Be that weeks, months, or years. Alas, we were not given the chance. And for that I am sorry._

_Falon'Din will guide me from this world, and I only hope that you find someone else. Someone kind who will remain at your side. You deserve that much._

_My heart was always yours._

_Arames_

=====================================================================================

_Vhenan,_

_Forgive me. Watch over my sisters. I hope they will offer you some comfort as you adjust to life without me._

_Know that my days with you have been magical. I would not trade them for anything. I want to say so much more, but the context of this note makes it difficult. Please take comfort in knowing you are part of the reason I do all of this. I fight to build a world for us. For you. I am sorry I was unable to deliver it._

_I love you,_

_Arames_

=====================================================================================

_Dorian,_

_Vhenan. I ran away. I'm sorry. I seem to do that, don't I? I ran from being First in my clan. I ran away when I thought I had lost Ishana. And now I have run away from the pain and loneliness brought on by the prospect of you leaving me._

_Of course I understand what you want to do. Why you want to go back. No, you don't want to go back. That much is clear to me now. You need to go back. We talk of how we can change Thedas and then I balk at your proposed return to Tevinter? That is not fair. You must try to save your home. That does not mean the end of us. I realize that now. Perhaps I am as afraid of being a port in a storm as you are._

_I am sorry it took me so long to realize this. That I punished you with silence. I needed to think. And now I have foolishly left this world without reconciling with you._

_I hope, with time, you will be able to forgive me. If what the Chantry tells us is true, that our spirits pass through the Fade when we die, know I will wait for you. I will find you, in this world or the next. Of only to hear you say “Amatus” one last time._

_Ir abelas, vhenan._

_Arames_

=====================================================================================

_Dorian,_

_I do not know why I continue to write these letters. Tomorrow we will arrive at Haven and fight Corypheus. The pain from the mark is excruciating and with the Veil so thin I dare not sleep. You have finally fallen asleep next to me, but I can see it is fitful. The demons of the Fade are close._

_And if I have failed in my duty it is likely we have fallen together. But if not, I repeat what I have said so many times before: I love you, Dorian. I believe I have since we first met. Since we fell into the future and you promised to protect me. Well over a year from that day and here we are._

_I assume that with my passing you will return to Tevinter and help Maevaris reshape the Magisterium. I do not doubt you will succeed. Creators protect me, but I will wait for you as long as I can. And if I am lucky, perhaps I will visit your dreams._

_I would write more but the pain is too much._

_I wish you many long and happy years to reshape the world and redeem your homeland._

_Forever and always your Amatus_

=====================================================================================

_Dorian,_

_I have written you countless letters. Some you have seen, some you may never see. This one, I am sure, will be placed in your hands._

_Apologies in advance for my handwriting. The anchor has grown wildly unstable over the past few weeks, despite my efforts to close even the farthest reaching rifts. Perhaps there are still some far into the Anderfels or Par Vollen that we cannot reach. But this feels different._

_The pain is hard to tolerate, but there is more. I remember when I was injured in the Emerald Graves and lost a fair amount of blood. This feels similar. A coldness that seeps into my very bones and will not leave. As if my life is slowly draining away. I knew my life was forfeit when I awoke with the mark on my hand several years ago, but the reality of my own death looms in front of me and I admit I am both terrified and furious. I cannot believe that after everything I will be destroyed by the very object that allowed us to stabilize the world. And then to be paraded in front of this Council of Heralds when they were unable or unwilling to do anything…it is almost too much._

_And now you are truly leaving me. You will not let me join you in Tevinter, despite my pleas. Ishana and Cullen will get married and have a family. I knew I would never father a child, not the way it is traditionally done, but then I met you and wondered. But it is too late to ask you about that. About building a family with you. Because I am dying and you are leaving. “For good, this time.”_

_Forgive my bitterness. It is not you I am angry with but this world that seems determined to keep us apart. It seems we will break one another's hearts. You kept telling me we would figure it out, and it seems we will, but not how we imagined._

_Dorian. Vhenan, I love you more with every passing day. I long to watch you grow old. To see the hair at your temples turn silver and the faint laugh lines around your eyes deepen. To watch you reshape Tevinter and become greater than the men you idolized as a youth. To argue philosophy and theory over wine with you. To pledge myself to you in front of Syalise. To bind myself to you now and forever._

_I could go on for years. And I want to. But time is not on our side. Perhaps it never was. We have saved the world more times than anyone else will ever know. And as my life drains away faster with every passing hour, I admit that all I can think about is how I would give anything, anything, for another day alone with you. To breathe the same air as you. Just one more minute._

_Live well, vhenan. And know that I never doubted you, not for one moment._

_Arames_


	35. Chapter 35

Arames recognized the circle of trees and campfire. A nug slept by the warm fire. There was a small tent and the comforting smell of pine pitch. He sat down on a worn log. The nug hopped into his lap. 

“Hello, Cole.” 

He sat by the fire for why felt like hours, with nothing but the sound of a nearby river. Once or twice he felt his vision darken. Then soft footsteps stirred behind. 

“Cullen gave them your letters,” Ysabelle whispered. 

Arames shrugged. “You have some, too.” 

“I don't want to read them.” 

“I’m dead, sulahn'nehn.” 

“No you’re not.” 

“I'm dying, Izzy.” 

“...I know, Ada.” 

Arames turned and saw a young elven girl, no more than eight, with large wide set blue eyes and wispy blonde hair. Small and frail against the looming night sky. The little girl he had held all those years ago. He frowned. 

“I'm not your father.” 

Ysabelle shrugged, and Arames saw his own movements echoed in his sister’s. 

“He would have traded my life for hers.” 

“Izzy—“ 

“It is the truth, Arames. You can't protect me from the truth. Ada cared as much as was his duty. He died when Mamae did. He said as much to me before he passed. You can't protect Shana from being a fool and falling in love with Fen'Harel, just like you can't protect me from myself.” 

He watched as the small child transformed into a beautiful young woman. He remembered his own mother, a memory long since buried, and he longed to be at her side. 

“You see what I can do, Arames? I can shape the very dreams of those around me. I can show what Tevinter is capable of. I could—“ 

“Why have you found me, Ysabelle?" He interrupted. "I grow weary of this life. I am tired of leadership, of the responsibility of so many lives. I want nothing more than to fade into obscurity and enjoy my days in peace—“ 

She knelt down in front of him and took his hands. Her eyes were filled with hope and excitement. 

“You can do that now. If you dissolve the Inquisition, you—“ 

“No!” Arames yelled back, and the forest seemed to melt around him. He stood in the Fade with Ysabelle. “Don't you understand, Izzy? My whole life has been duty. Putting other's needs before my own. For the first time in my life I have the chance to actually live it, and the man I want to spend it with leaves to Tevinter on some noble suicide mission he won't let me join. You, the child I helped raise. The one who calls ME Ada. My sulahn'nehn. You are putting yourself in unnecessary risk…and I am to just watch helplessly? Can't you see I grow weary of this life?” 

"Truly, Arames?" Ysabelle folded her arms across her chest and stuck her chin out, reminding him of Ishana. 

"Truly," he replied. "Everyone is leaving me." 

"And that's a good enough reason to just give up?" 

"What kind of life am I to lead? Where am I to go? I cannot return to our clan. I cannot go to Tevinter. I cannot live at Skyhold...it would just be easier for everyone to move on without me." 

"Oh, Arames," Ysabelle whispered, and slid her arms around his waist in an embrace. They stood there, in silence, holding one another. Again, darkness seemed to close around him. 

"You have to let me go." 

“I can't, Arames. None of us can.” 

“Please…I'm so tired…I cannot do this alone.” 

You won't be alone. Besides, can you go to our ancestor’s side knowing what Solas plans? Are you willing to unleash that chaos into our world?” 

“That is not fair.” 

“I never said I would play fair, Ada. I never have.” 

“It's my choice, isn't it, lethallan?” Arames looked around and smiled. “I am in the Fade.” 

Ysabelle nodded. “Yes, you are.” 

“So it is true, our spirits do pass through as we die.” 

“It seems so…” 

He sighed and looked back at the baby he had helped raise into womanhood. 

“I can't wait to tell Cassandra.” 

Ysabelle's face lit up. 

“So you'll come? Truly?” 

“Knowing I have a choice? I could never choose to leave you. Or Shana. Or Dorian, for that matter.” 

And with those words he began to disappear.


	36. Chapter 36

He awoke in an oversized bed with an ornate canopy. The early morning light peaked through the billowing curtains with the early autumn air. He was heavily bandaged from the fight with the Qunari. Ysabelle slept next to him, her arms wrapped around his torso, as gentle smile on her lips. 

“You'll always be my little sulahn'nehn,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead. He glanced down and studied his missing hand. Perhaps Dagna could help design something. He closed his eyes as pain radiated through his body. 

“No, please no,” Arames heard Dorian's voice from the doorframe. Before he could respond Dorian was at his side, his soft hands on his face. “Amatus, please, don't leave me. I can't do this without you. Venhedis, I am so sorry.” 

Arames felt the familiar warmth of a healing spell. And Dorian's lips brushed his forehead. 

“Dorian,” Arames started. 

“You're alive! Thank the Maker! They told us…” 

Dorian trailed off, a faraway look in his eyes. 

“Vhenan?” 

“Hmm?” 

Arames reached out and placed a hand on Dorian's tear stained cheek. 

“You read my letters?” 

Dorian nodded. 

“It's true, what I wrote. I love you Dorian. I have since the beginning. Do you think there will be room for me in your life in Tevinter?” 

“Amatus, need you ask? Always.” 

Arames flopped onto his back. He studied the expensive sheer fabric canopy overhead and tried to make sense of his life. He had saved the world three times, now. What was one more try? He had been torn asunder and stitched back together, scarred, like the sky above. 

“Creators, what could be next?” 

The door slammed open and Iron Bull bellowed over the din of the others. Ysabelle was right: he would not be alone this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! It's done! For now, at least. I can't imagine I'll leave these crazy kids alone for too long. But for now. Fin. I hope you liked it!


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